The ABC's of Alan Tracy
by KayValo87
Summary: A series of one-shots explaining why the TAG 2015 Alan has a different uniform than his brothers.
1. Prologue

Hello everybody!

I know I haven't posted ... well, anything in a while. You see, in addition to having mental and learning disabilities, I am also a full time college student. (Yay.) Because this takes up so much of my time, I made a promise to myself not to post anything that is not finished, so that I might be able to post daily and not leave people hanging. However, when inspiration would not let me go to sleep, I started this new story tonight. (Needless to say, it is not finished yet.) However, as I am on summer break, as is my fabulous beta, I will post within 24-48 hours for each chapter. (Please hold me to this so I can stay motivated.)

A huge thanks to my beta, 1monster2, for her late night help getting this thing ready.

I would also like to dedicate this story to nhsweetcherry and TheFABFive2015 for writing the awesome stories that inspired me to try my hand at writing for TAG 2015.

 **DISCLAIMER:** This story is for entertainment only. I do not own the Thunderbirds, as I have no actual yard with my apartment and they would not fit on my seven foot long balcony.

Please enjoy ...

* * *

 **Prologue**

Alan waited in the hallway, pacing up and down every few seconds. Thunderbird One had landed almost five minutes ago, how long did it take to get into an elevator? Finally the door slide open and the teen nearly jumped inside to greet its passenger.

"Scott, I have to talk to you!"

"Whoa, what's wrong?"

"I still don't have a uniform."

Scott sighed and brushed past him, as if the matter wasn't a big deal. Well, it may not be to their fearless leader, but Alan had waited long enough to join their ranks. Besides, he had one card to play that his brother had to listen to. He didn't want to go this far, but Scott left him no choice.

"Dad said he was making one for me. What happened to that one?"

Alan held his breath as Scott froze halfway into the lounge. It was a low blow to use their father, especially after what happened to him, but it was true. Jeff Tracy had promised him that he could join his brothers just as soon as he finished his training on Three, and he had … just before their dad's crash.

He should have received his uniform then, so he could join the search, but Scott had vetoed it. It was like his brother's new position of head of the household had automatically reinstated his own role as baby of the family. Well, he was not a baby and the only way he could see to prove it was to officially join International Rescue, just like their father intended.

"What's going on here?" Virgil asked, as he and Gordon joined them at the lounge door.

"Alan wants his uniform," Scott answered quietly.

Suddenly all his brothers were serious, even Gordon's ever present smile had been replaced by a frown. It wasn't like he was asking to join a militia and go off to war! He just wanted to be part of the same thing they were. Was that really too much to ask?

"Dad said he had one made for me," he repeated. "It should have been finished ages ago, why can't I have it?"

The silence went on for so long, Alan was about ready to scream. Finally, Virgil stepped forward and tried to explain.

"It's not that we don't want you out there-"

"It isn't?" Gordon interrupted, earning a glare from the other two.

"It's just that … the suit is not ready yet."

"It's not or your not?" Alan snapped.

Seeing the hurt in the eyes of all three of his brothers, Alan regretted his words. Still, their expressions hinted that there was some truth to his words. He got it, he really did. International Rescue is dangerous; he'd seen enough of their injuries to know that much. But the fact was that his father promised him a spot on the team, and that promise was one of the few things Alan had to hold onto. He had to join the team … he just had to.

"Alright," Scott sighed.

"Really?" Alan half shouted, even as his brothers echoed his words in a more questioning tone.

"You can get your suit by the weekend," Scott promised. "Just as soon as Brains finishes a few modifications."

Fair enough. Most of his brother had things added to their uniforms to suit their needs, like Gordon's breather and Virgil's high powered flashlight. Alan couldn't help but wonder what was going to be on his. Since he had already been training for Three, it would probably be something space related, like a jet pack. It would be awesome if he got a built in jet pack … or rocket shoes, those would be good too.

He spent the rest of the week thinking up what he might get, but his top choice was still the jet pack, when Scott called him down to Brain's lab. Everyone was present for the unveiling, except Grandma who was trying to make a celebratory cake … and hadn't been seen for some time. Maybe once he got his new suit he could take it out for a spin until someone was able to dispose of his baked "present."

"Ready, Alan?" Brains asked, holding the edge of the sheet covering a tall case.

"I was born ready!"

The scientist smiled and pulled away the fabric to reveal … a basic uniform. No flashlight or breather, which was not as crushing as the lack of jet pack. The only difference from the rest of their uniforms was an added material around his shoulders and torso. Wait–

"Is that … body armor?"

"Yup," Scott grinned. "The best Brains can make."

Alan rolled his eyes. Seriously? They gave him armor?! What did they think he was gonna do, play rugby in an asteroid belt? Scratch that; rugby players didn't even wear armor!

"I don't need armor!"

"Oh really?" Gordon raised an eyebrow.

"Really," Alan insisted. "I mean, none of you wear armor, so I don't need it either."

"Uh, yeah, you do," Virgil stated.

The teen crossed his arms and glared, trying to look older than his sixteen years, but not doing well based on the smirks he was getting in return.

"Name one time, one time I needed body armor."

"Seriously?" John asked, as his holographic form joined the conversation. "Alan, we could give you an alphabetical list …"

* * *

So, what do you think?

With stories like this I like to leave it open for viewer participation. So if you have any ideas of things Alan could hurt himself on that start with A, feel free to let me know. In any case, I'll try to have the next chapter posted by next midnight. (About 24 from now, Oregon time.)


	2. A is for Asteroid

Hey, I got it done!

Here is the first official chapter ... which did not want to end ... You don't mind a double length story, do you?

Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to Bedlamx28 and TheFABFive2015 for their awesome suggestion/prompt. (Honorable mention to AnnaStormRogers for giving the only other suggestion.)

Huge thanks to my beta, 1monster2, for being willing to edit my work at 11pm ... every night. You rock. :)

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 1: A is for Asteroid**

Alan was not a morning person, not in the slightest. However, there were a few things that could get him out of bed at an early hour, and a chance to take a ride on Thunderbird Three was right at the top of that list. So, when his alarm beeped, the teen was out the door like a … well, a rocket.

"Dad!" he called, skidding into the lounge. "Hey Scott, you seen Dad?"

"Not since early this morning," he answered from his seat on the couch. "He had to fly to Sydney for an emergency meeting."

And here Alan thought _he_ had been up early. It wasn't even 8:00 yet! What time did he have to be up to get ahead of his family, _dawn_? With a slump of his shoulders, he dropped down next to his brother. So much for today's adventure.

"What's wrong with you?" Scott asked, setting aside whatever schematic he had been looking at.

"Dad said he was gonna take me up in Thunderbird Three today," Alan grumbled. "I only need sixteen more hours of practice before I can do it on my own. At this rate, Ill have gray hair before I can join International Rescue!"

"Hey, you know Dad. If he can't do it himself, I'm sure he set something up."

"So … are you gonna take me?" he asked, hopefully.

"Sorry, but I don't like the idea of gray hair either."

Scott laughed at Alan's attempt to hit him, swiftly getting up so the teen only succeeded in falling off the couch … which just made him laugh more. Older brothers were such a pain.

"I sure hope you're more coordinated in Thunderbird Three."

He pushed himself up so he could see John coming in the room. If Dad was gone, the next best pilot of their rocket was–

"You're gonna take me up in Thunderbird Three?"

"Against my better judgment," John muttered.

"Dad's orders?" Scott guessed.

"Yup."

Alan ignored the condolences that passed between his brothers, since he was too busy running for the hanger. He didn't have his own uniform yet, but Brains provided some back up gear for space flights. Slipping into the cover-all type suit, he _impatiently_ waited for John. It took forever for him to show up, and when he did he didn't exactly look thrilled. Not that he cared, he was going in a rocket.

"Can I handle take off?" Alan asked as they strapped in.

"Maybe next time, just let me know what the readings are."

Slumping in his seat, as much as the restraints allowed, Alan rattled of the stats for the engine power and thrust while John maneuvered them through each layer of the atmosphere. But, once they had passed the exosphere, it was his turn.

"Okay, Alan, you can take the controls and follow the course I laid in."

"Thunderbird Five?" the teen groaned. "Dad said I could do some _real_ flying today, not just a supply run."

"You have to crawl before you can walk."

"But I've been crawling for weeks!"

"Well, what do _you_ want to do?"

Alan had been hoping he would ask. Of course, John wasn't as likely to let him set their destination as their father, but it wouldn't hurt to make a suggestion … and maybe some subtle course corrections.

"Well, you know that asteroid that's supposed to pass this way soon?"

"If by soon you mean now, than yes."

"So we can go?"

"No."

No doubt about it, flying with his dad was way better than the space equivalent of Miss Daisy. He was probably worried about Alan scratching the paint or some other brand of older brother paranoia. At least he hadn't noticed the change in their flight plan … yet.

 ***A*S*T*E*R*O*I*D***

John took a calming breath, pressing his fingers into his eyes and trying to remind himself what his father had told him about having patience with his little brother. Funny, all that came to mind was the thing about a telescope upgrade if he helped Alan get his certification. Suddenly, watching the phases of the moons of Neptune didn't seem worth it. At least they would be getting to Thunderbird Five soon and he could take a– why were they leaving orbit?

"Alan, what did you do?"

"What do you mean?" the kid asked, with the most pathetic attempt at innocence John had ever heard. "I'm just flying on the path programmed into the computer."

He checked and sure enough they was on course, just not the one _he_ had been programmed in at the start of the supply run. The little shrimp had changed their path. He must really want a closer look at that asteroid … but not that close!

"You idiot! You just put us on a collision course with the thing!"

"Uh … how bad a collision are we talking?"

John resisted the urge to shoot him a glare as he was far more concerned with changing their course. Unfortunately, whatever Alan did had caused some sort of glitch in the system and the controls weren't responding to him.

"John? Thunderbird Three has been hit before and survived, right?"

The kid was starting to sound scared and protective instincts were beginning to override his irritation. Not that he wasn't furious, but at least he could control it for the time being.

"It's been hit before, but those were meteroids."

"What's the difference?"

Have patience with your brother, Dad had said. Be gentle with him ... right.

"If you had done your homework, as we told you-"

"John," Alan groaned.

"Okay," he held out his hand to demonstrate a small size. "A meteoroid, like the ones that have hit us before, are about the size of three or four golf balls. An asteroid, like the one we're heading for, is about the size of three or four _skyscrapers_!"

Okay, so not very patient or gentle, but it sure got the point across. Alan's eyes grew wide and he turned to the controls, no doubt trying to set a course back to Tracy Island. Before he could screw something else up, John grabbed his hand.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. We're International Rescue, remember? We've been in worse scrapes than this."

"Maybe you have," Alan huffed. "I'm not on the team yet, _remember_?"

John just gave him a smile and ruffled his hair. He did have a point, but that was what this training was for; so the kid could learn what to do in an emergency. What better place to learn that than an emergency … man, he wished his Dad was here. Maybe he could call him …

"Thunderbird Three to base."

"Hey," Scott's holographic form answered. "How's the training going?"

The two shared a look and John could almost hear Alan gulp. Scott must have heard it too because his demeanor changed in an instant.

"What is it?"

"Um … we ran into some technical difficulties," John said carefully. "Is Dad around?"

"No, he's still in Sydney. What's the problem."

"We're gonna crash," Alan blurted out.

Not the best way to put it. John spent the next several minutes calming down his older brother and trying to explain the situation. In the end, they had to call Thunderbird Five where Brains had been making a few upgrades.

"Based on my calculations, you should be able to miss the asteroid if you activate your right boosters."

Hard a-starboard, John thought to himself; the same instructions given to the helmsman on the Titanic. However, he did trust Brains and was able to activate the boosters, but would it be enough? They could see the asteroid now, blocking most of their view. Yup, this had to be what the guys steering the Titanic went through. Luckily, Thunderbird Three was a bit smoother in its turn and they were able to miss it … almost. It may have just clipped them, but it was enough to knock their number two engine offline.

"Did we just hit it?" Alan yelped.

"Just a bump," he assured him, images of ice water still plaguing his mind. "Stay here, I'll go out and have a look."

John cut the remaining engines and quickly put on his space gear. It didn't take him long to find the damage, but it would still take a minute to fix it. Though no sooner had he pried off the panel that he lost his grip on his screw driver-

"Got it!" Alan announced, making his way along the side of the ship in a lopsided extra suit.

"What are you doing out here? Get back inside!"

"I'm helping. That's what a co-pilot does."

"No," John said, trying really hard to keep calm. "A co-pilot listens to orders and stays were he is told. In this case, you should be in the ship."

"But I can do more out here."

"Alan, I need someone watching the monitors."

"But we already passed the asteroid, what else is there?"

As if the universe itself chose to answer him, a shower of meteroids came right at them. John moved, trying to cover his brother, but a rock the size of a softball slammed into the kid's chest making him lose his grip on the ship.

"Alan!" John yelled, grabbing hold of his hand before he drifted off.

He wasn't talking, might not even be breathing, and John had no more time to think. Unclipping his safety line, he rushed the boy back into the airlock, all the while getting peppered with meteoroids ranging from the size of pebbles to what felt like fists. Once they were safely back in Thunderbird Three, he ripped off Alan's helmet and almost wept at the gasping sound he made.

"Ow."

" _Now_ will you stay inside?"

"Yes," the boy squeaked, rubbing his ribs.

It was almost ten minutes before the meteoroid shower stopped and John was able to fix the ship. In that time he had managed to check on Alan –relieved to find that his ribs were bruised and not broken– give the island an update on their status, as well as get help from Brains in repairing the navigation problem. It seemed that when Alan changed the course he had "accidentally" locked out John's controls.

"I swear I didn't do it on purpose!" he insisted, for the tenth time, as the two finally made it back home to their solid and safe lounge.

"Hey, you guys okay?" Virgil asked, his eyes sweeping from one brother to another.

Through with patience and gentleness, John just turned to Scott, who was standing behind their medic. He couldn't see his own expression, but based on his older brother's reaction, it was not good.

"I'm taking the elevator back to Thunderbird Five," he said slowly. "I will be back after he is certified to fly. Good luck."

With that, he turned away and hurried back to the hanger, not even giving Virgil a chance to check out his bruises. He could get all the rest he needed … far far away from Alan. But before he could leave his personal com indicated a call from his father. Scott had to have told him what happened, so there was only one thing left to say.

"Hey, Dad, that new telescope better be able to see Pluto."

* * *

So, what did you think?

If you have any ideas for things Alan can hurt himself with that start with B, please feel free to share. As usual, I welcome all suggestions/prompts and take each one into consideration. Thank you in advance for your input.

I can't promise the next one will be this long, but I can say I will try to get it up by the next midnight (Oregon time).


	3. B is for Boat

Okay, so this one was later than I intended, but it also did not want to be written until after 10pm. To make matters worse, I lost touch with my beta!

Luckily, another friend of mine is a bit of an insomniac herself and was willing to go over it for me, even though she has never seen the show. (Thank you, Silver-Eyed Leanan Sidhe! You're the best!)

This chapter is for AnnaStormRogers and nhsweetcherry for, not only giving me my only suggestions, but for giving me an awesome inspiration!

I give you ... Gordon. ;)

* * *

 **Chapter 2: B is for Boat**

Alan was bored. So, very, very bored. He was bored to the extent that he was doing his lessons without being told. That was _really_ bored. Of course the lessons weren't helping much. Trigonometry wasn't exactly the most stimulating of subjects. In fact, he would normally classify it under the title 'complete waste of time.'

"It can't be that bad," Virgil commented after Alan's hundredth sigh … okay, maybe tenth.

"Yes, it can," the teen protested. "I mean, who uses triangles anymore?"

"Well, there's architects, painters, engineers, designers, jewelers-"

"I wasn't being literal!"

"Photographers, construction workers, astronomers, sailors-"

"What about sailing?" Gordon asked, sticking his head in the room.

Wow, Alan thought to himself. He had to have a radar for all things water related … of course in _his_ case, it might be considered sonar. With another long suffering sigh, he turned back to his lessons and let Virgil explain the situation. However, Gordon's reaction was not what he expected.

"I don't blame him!" the aquanaut snorted. "You can't learn that sort of thing from a holographic snore-fest."

"Thank you!" Alan shouted, just as Virgil was advising their loud-mouthed brother to go take a swim … based on the tone, it wasn't much of a suggestion.

"I'm not saying he _shouldn't_ study. I'm just saying there are other ways to learn that are a lot more fun."

"Alright, professor," Virgil stood up, setting aside his book. " _You_ go teach him about triangles."

"I will. Come on, Alan."

Abandoning his holographic projector, the teen raced after his brother. It was good to have an ally in the fight against the mundane, also known as Scott and Virgil. John wasn't so bad, but the guy was kind of a genius and tended to forget that others … well … weren't.

"Here we are!" Gordon said proudly, stopping at the edge of the dock.

Alan felt his enthusiasm drop at the sight of their vehicle for the day. Something told him that his lesson didn't include breaking any speed records. Still, with an aquanaut as his teacher, he really shouldn't have been surprised.

"Um … don't the speed boats use triangles?"

"Not like this beauty."

Alan didn't even try to hide his grimace. The "beauty" to which his brother referred had to be at least a hundred years old, with large canvas sails and yards of thick rope; the thing did didn't even have a motor! With Alan's luck, the boat would sink as soon as they were out of sight of the island.

"You coming?" Gordon asked, hopping onto the deck.

"Well … my lessons aren't _that_ bad-"

"Alan, get in the boat."

Grudgingly doing as he was told, the teen helped Gordon cast off and the two set out for the open ocean. Surprisingly, the ride was very smooth as Gordon used the sails and rigging to explain the trigonometry problem he had been stuck on. Alan was even starting to enjoy himself … until he notice dark clouds looming on the horizon.

 ***B*O*A*T***

Gordon kept an eye on the sky, aware of just how quickly the weather can turn against a boat like his. If he had been in any other craft, he wouldn't have worried about it that much. However, the Sea Nymph was a bit more delicate than his usual rides and needed to take special care in rough seas. Fully restored or not, she was still 102 years old.

"We should probably start heading back," he called out. "I'll have to gybe. Watch out for the boom."

Gordon turned the boat against the wind, ducking as the bar holding the sail passed quickly over his head … but saw a moment too late that his brother was still standing!

"Alan!"

With not even a full second to react he shot his hand out, grabbing the kid's shirt in an attempted to move him out of the way, but a sickening pop coupled with his brother's scream told him it was too late. Alan crumbled to the deck, his right arm falling uselessly at his side. Gordon rushed over and quickly diagnosed the injury; a dislocated shoulder. Scott was going to kill him.

"I can't move my arm," Alan whimpered. "Did I break it?"

"Hey, just relax. It's not broken. I can fix it, just take it easy."

Gordon could see tears in the corners of the kid's eyes and really wished Virgil was here to handle this part, even if it was likely he would throw him overboard for letting Alan get hurt in the first place. Still, he was part of International Rescue; poping an arm back in its socket should be a piece of cake … now, how did Virgil say to do this?

"Why are you stopping?" Alan asked, his eyes growing wide. "Don't you know what to do?"

"Of course I know what to do," Gordon answered, his voice coming out far more confident than he felt. "Just relax."

Yes, relaxing was the first step. He had to get that arm back where it belonged and he couldn't do it if his brother was too tense, but how to … bingo! He gently took hold of the kid's limp wrist in one hand and cradled his elbow with the other.

 _Keep calm_ , he told himself. _If you're calm, he will be calm. Calmness is key_.

"Relax," he repeated. "I'll tell you everything I'm going to do, just relax."

Surprisingly, it worked. Now to keep him that way …

"I'm going to count to three," he explained slowly. "When I get to three, I'm going to-"

In one quick motion, he popped the arm back in place, earning a startled scream from his brother.

"What happened to three!" Alan demanded, taking his arm back and holding it to his chest.

"If I had counted, you would have gotten tense," Gordon explained, grabbing the first aid kit from under the seat. "Now, let me bind that for you."

"No way!" Alan shook his head, backing toward the edge of the boat. "I'd rather take my chances without."

Gordon huffed, but still brought a roll of gauze over to his brother. The kid could be stubborn, but on the ocean, he was still king.

"You can mess up your arm all you want, as soon as we get to shore. Until then-"

He wasn't able to finish because Alan chose that moment to dive toward the stern. That in itself wouldn't be a problem … in any other type of boat. Unfortunately, he caught himself on the tiller and managed to turn the boat just enough to bring the boom swinging back the way it came. Gordon dropped, but not soon enough. A moment later, all he could see was stars as the cold water closed around him.

"Gordon!"

The voice screamed in his ear, adding to the symphony of hammers already banging out a throbbing melody in his head. He shivered and opened his eyes, not remembering when he closed them. Alan was leaning over him, looking more pale than ever, and Gordon suddenly remembered that the kid was hurt … then he tried to move and remembered _he_ was hurt. This wasn't good.

"Gordon," his brother called again. "Are you okay?"

"Not sure …" he grunted. "Do I look okay?"

He must not because he could make out tears in Alan's eyes. Though that might be rain water. When had it started raining? Despite his massive headache, Gordon forced himself to sit up so he could better assess the situation. He was drenched, but his kid brother was only half wet … He'd figure that out later. The storm was starting up, but it wasn't bad yet and they were still insight of Tracy Island. At least there was still _some_ good news. Unfortunately, Alan was temporarily left-handed and, in all likelihood, he had a concession.

"Gordon, I don't know how to get us back," Alan said quietly, clearly having come to the same conclusion he had.

First things first, they had to get the sails down. As he was unable to stand, he leaned against the side while talking the kid through the steps. Once that was done, they were stuck with only one way out; certain death.

"Sorry, Al," he said solemnly. "We're gonna have to call Scott. If you survive, please make sure that John gets my lucky towel."

"Hey, Scott will get here. You'll be okay."

"Yeah, I was meaning after Scott killed me. You can have my scuba gear, but give Virgil my music collection."

His attempt at humor had the right effect and Alan rolled his eyes as he lifted his watch, remembering at the last minute not to move his right arm. Gordon offered the use of his instead and the teen used his left hand to hold up the borrowed limb. However, no sooner had he opened his mouth that he paused. It seemed the joke was not that funny when you, actually, were about to face their mama bear of a brother.

"Hey, why don't try calling John," Gordon suggested, gently probing a cut he discovered near his hairline.

"What good would that do?"

"Well, he's too far away to kill us," he reasoned. "Just make it quick, we got to get on land before the storm gets worse."

Alan nodded and called up to Thunderbird Five. John's image appeared in seconds, about the same amount of time it took for him to frown.

"Alan, what are you doing with Gordon's watch."

"He still has it, I just can't use mine."

"... Why?"

"Um … that's a long story. Do you think you can send Scott and Virgil out to tow us back? Gordon hit his head and can't sail."

Traitor! Making plans to rat him out as soon as the overbearing duo showed up, Gordon listened as Alan explained how the boom had knocked him overboard and the kid had manged to pull him back on deck –so that's how he got wet– but seemed to forget mentioning his own injury. All the better to tell on him with.

It didn't take long before one of their family's speed boats was cutting across the water toward them, two dark headed figures aboard who looked a lot more menacing than the clouds overhead. Luckily, the storm was bad enough that only Virgil climbed onto their boat, securing a tow line before turning to assess Gordon's condition.

"Follow my finger," he ordered, moving his hand past his injured brother's face.

"I'm fine," he insisted, but did as he was told anyway. "Alan's the one with a dislocated shoulder."

The medic turned sharply as the teen's protests confirmed the not so subtle accusations. For his part, Gordon just gave them both an innocent smile and allowed Virgil to treat him … as he spent the rest of the trip home hearing him lecture their youngest brother on the importance of reporting _all_ injuries.

Revenge is _mine_ , thus saith the aquanaut!

* * *

Yes, I know this is supposed to be a story about Alan getting hurt, but you can't blame me for tossing in another hurt Tracy here and there, right?

The next letter is C and I am open to suggestions on what I can use to beat up Alan. (Not to mention requests for what other brother, or brothers, should be featured with our star.)


	4. C is for Car

Wow, and I though my first two didn't want to end ...

Before you read this (monster of a) chapter, I would like to say thank you to all the people who suggested "car" as the challenge word for this segment. I would also like to say that, in order for my idea to work, I had to bring in some elements from the original Thunderbirds TV show. (It is still _technically_ TAG, but I did take some inspiration from the equipment used in "Move and You're Dead!" and "Attack of the Alligators," not to mention the wealth of the family ... But TAG never said that they _didn't_ have those things.) I hope you don't mind.

I would like to make a formal dedication of this chapter to AnnaStormRogers, the only person to have reviewed every chapter (thus far).

A huge thanks to my eta, 1monster2, for staying up late to work on this for me.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 3: C is for Car**

Alan flipped through a magazine, admiring the latest in racing technology. Of course, none of these came close to the sort of things Brains made for them, but fast was fast. If only he could drive …

"Hey Virgil?"

"Yeah?" his brother mumbled from somewhere behind his easel.

"Can you drive?"

His question was met with silence and Alan wondered if he even heard him. However, when he rolled over on the couch to see him, the teen was met with a blank stare.

"I pilot one of the world's largest aircraft … and you want to know if I can _drive_?"

Well, when he put it _that_ way … but it was still a valid question. It's not like the island had any roads, and they hadn't lived on the mainland in years. Which brought him back to the reason for the question.

"There is a car expo in Los Angeles tomorrow," he said, going back to the magazine. "Do you think Dad would let us go?"

"Why do I have a feeling that 'us' means 'you'?"

"No, 'us' means 'us'," Alan insisted. "You're the one that likes engines."

Not to mention that fact that hell would freeze over before his dad let him go to the mainland alone. He couldn't even fly the family jet by himself yet! It was pretty unfair, especially considering that Gordon was allowed to spend weeks in his submarine and he was only a couple of years older!

"Call it a birthday present," the teen suggested, swinging his feet off the side of the couch.

"Nice try, but you don't turn 16 for over a month."

"Okay, an early birthday present."

Virgil rolled his eyes and went back behind his easel. Well, there was more than one way to get his brother to do something. Tucking the magazine under his arm, Alan tip-toed out of the room and made his way down the hall toward his dad's office …

Twenty hours later, he and Virgil were coming in for a landing at LAX.

"Isn't this place great?" Alan asked, looking around at the rows of classic cars.

His brother mumbled a unintelligible reply, still trying to pretend he was angry about being sent along to babysit. Of course, he wasn't fooling anyone, especially when they passed a booth showing the construction of one of the newest engines. His eyes lit up, causing Alan's grin to widen. When was Virgil going to realize that not all his ideas were lame?

"Hey, there's an invention showcase starting in a few minutes," the teen announced, checking his event brochure. "Wanna check it out?"

"Sure."

They hurried through the crowds and made it to the main stage with seconds to spare. This was one advantage of having a rich father; their VIP passes got them preferred seating in the second row. The first invention to come up was a new kind of glass. The demonstrator took a blow torch to it, which left a black mark but didn't break it. Nothing new to Alan; the glass Brains made for the Thunderbirds wouldn't have even singed under that sort of test. The next that came out was a tire that was bulletproof, followed by a car door that couldn't be dented. Both awesome, but still tame compared to what they had back home.

"This next innovation came from the same minds that created the technology of International Rescue."

Alan almost fell out of his seat and Virgil sat up a little straighter. Brains never said anything about entering something in the show. Honestly, this kind of thing was pretty low-key compared to the types of expos _his_ stuff was showcased at. The brothers shared a look before turning their attention back to the stage.

It was a jack that utilized air power, not unlike their hover-sleds and rescue platforms. It did kind of look like something Brains would have, but Alan didn't recognize it. A quick glace at Virgil's frown said he hadn't seen it before either.

"These powerful jets provide an upward thrust that lifts the vehicle with just the push of a button," the demonstrator said, even as the car beside him rose a foot and a half off the ground. "This allows the mechanic to adjust the height to suit their needs, from fixing a tire to replacing an axle …"

Alan couldn't help but gasp with the rest of the crowd when the car lifted another four feet into the air. The crowd burst into applause, but Virgil was not as enthusiastic.

"What's wrong?"

"The air jets are too small," he said right into Alan's ear to be heard over the crowd. "The strain of holding a car that high is going to kill whatever power source they are using. It's a good idea, but they'll need a better design if they want it to have a sustained lift of more than a foot or so."

Alan rolled his eyes. Trust _his_ brother to be able to spot the engineering flaws from the audience. The guy spent _way_ too much time with Brains. Of course, that thought brought on a case of the giggles.

"What's with you?" Virgil asked.

"Can you imagine what Brains would say about all these _groundbreaking_ inventions?"

Now Virgil was chuckling, especially when they came out with the next demonstration. They spent the rest of the show whispering to each other various things that their engineering friend would say about the inventions, particularly the safety hazards of an airbag made of rubber and the uselessness of a windshield that changed colors.

After the showcase the two brothers wandered through the booths, stopping occasionally to admire an antique engine or a fully restored classic. Every few minutes, Alan would consult his brochure to get more information or check to see what other events were starting.

"Hey, Virg," he announced a couple hours later. "That design thing you wanted to see is starting up in the East Tent."

"Design thing?" his brother echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean," Alan groaned. "Those sketches for upcoming cars-"

"Yeah, I got it," Virgil smirked. "How do we get to the East Tent?"

He was about to answer when something else caught his eye. For one hour only, they were going to be showing the newest racer on the circuit … on the other side of the expo … at the same time as the design event.

"Al?"

"The newest racer is here," he answered excitedly. "It's gonna e in the Central Tent, but it's only for the next hour …"

While tempted to ask his brother if they could change their plans, Alan knew that seeing those sketches was just about the only thing he had requested they do. But it was the newest racer on the circuit …

"Tell you what," Virgil cut into his thoughts. "You're too big to get too lost. Why don't you check out the race car and I'll go see the sketches. We'll meet back at the food carts when we're done."

Eagerly accepting the deal, Alan quickly gave his brother directions to the East Tent before rushing off in the opposite direction. It didn't take him long to find the racer, but it was quite a feat getting to the front where he could actually see it. Thank heaven for VIP passes!

"The key to speed here is in the design," the spokesperson was saying. "The engine has been completely altered to make way for thermal power conduits.

"Is that even legal?" Alan asked.

A few men chuckled, some making comments about the "cute kid," which he pointedly ignored. Brains had told him about the new thermal power engines, and the scientist was not a fan. According to him, thermal power was not meant for cars and turned them into, what he often called, rolling ovens.

"Son, we take safety very seriously, that's why we installed cooling units for the driver's cab," the man assured him, eyeing his VIP badge. "Care to take a look?"

Even though he was skeptical about the design, Alan wasn't going to turn down this sort of chance. He was led passed the ropes to where the car sat while some very familiar looking jacks were brought in.

"Hey, aren't those the ones from the showcase?"

"Yes they are," one of the men said proudly, his chest puffing out a little. "Did you like their demonstration earlier?"

Actually, all he could think of was Virgil's warning about the strength of the motors. Trying not to grimace, he forced a smile and used all the same cheer as when Grandma offered him a cookie.

"Yeah … it was … great. Um … how about we keep it low, like a foot or so?"

"Kid, we've been lifting cars with these all day, they're perfectly safe," one of the mechanics assured him with a slap on the back. "I mean, you don't seen International Rescue equipment shutting down on the job, do you?"

While his first instinct was to tell him that this equipment was nothing like the stuff International Rescue used, but managed to remind himself that he was supposed to be an average kid and couldn't possibly know that. So, not wanting to cause a scene and really wanting to see under the car, Alan took a deep breath and laid down on the floor …

 ***C*A*R***

Virgil was admiring a sketch for an amphibious vehicle when he was distracted by a commotion outside the tent. He looked up in time to see a couple of paramedics race by and it was all he could do not to take off after them. He was off duty after all … but that didn't mean he couldn't at least see what had happened. Casually as he could, he wandered out of the tent and up to one of the event staff.

"What's going on?"

"Please stay back sir, we have it under control."

"I'm sure you do, I was just curious."

"There was a situation in the Central Tent," the guy admitted. "Just please- Hey!"

Virgil raced through the crowded event with only one thought on his mind; Alan had gone to the central tent! Why had he let him go alone? Why did he have to go see those sketches? If anything happened to that kid … Scott was going to kill him.

"Alan!" he yelled, coming to the crowd outside the tent. "Alan!"

He didn't get an answered, but he wasn't surprised based on the noise level of the mob surrounding the entrance. It seemed all of them were talking at once.

"… International Rescue my eye! They would never use something that shoddy …"

"… It just collapsed right on top of him, poor kid ..."

"… he was only picked because he had a VIP badge …"

Every snippet of conversation just made Virgil more determined to get through. Throwing manners out the window, he pushed and elbowed his way to the front … and his heart almost stopped at the sight that greeted him.

"Dear God!" he gasped, vaulting over the rope barrier. "Alan!"

"Sir," one of the event staff stepped forward, trying to keep him back. "Please let the-"

"That's my brother under there!" Virgil practically growled, shoving the man aside and rushing over to the car.

He dropped to his keens next to Alan's prone form, or at least what he could see of it. From the chest up, his little brother was pinned underneath a high-end sports car. Based on what he had heard earlier, as well as the air jacks sitting at each corner of the car, it wasn't hard to figure out what happened.

"Alan? Can you hear me?" he asked, taking hold of the kid's hand.

"Virgil?" came a weak reply.

The sound made his heart rate go even higher. He knew exactly what caused that sort of strain; his brother wasn't getting enough air!

"Save your breath, Alan. We'll have you out in a minute."

Luckily, the emergency team the expo had on hand were almost as efficient as International Rescue. No sooner had Virgil finished speaking than a pair of EMT's place some hand cranked jacks on either side of the teen, lifting the car in a matter of moments. While Virgil wanted nothing more than to yank Alan out from under there, he took his time helping the paramedics slide the boy out to minimize any damage the car might have caused.

He was given oxygen and placed on a stretcher. Virgil hopped in the ambulance beside him, not letting go of his hand the whole ride.

"You're gonna be alright, Alan."

"I know," he murmured, slipping off the plastic breathing mask. "Do you think we can go home? Suddenly, I don't really trust mainland equipment."

He got his wish three hours later when he was released from the hospital. Miraculously, there was no internal bleeding, but three of his ribs were cracked and two more were bruised.

"Hey, Alan," he called as they flew over the Pacific. "Next time, can we let Brains test the new tech?"

"Sounds good," the kid grunted, shifting in his seat.

Virgil frowned at the slow movement and pressed the engines a little harder. First thing he was going to do when he got back –after putting his brother to bed– was to let Brains know about the latest invention from "International Rescue" … and question Dad about if they could sue for fraud. It wasn't likely, as there was no way to prove it without revealing who they were. Still, it wouldn't hurt to ask. But seeing his brother dozing in the seat next to him, bruising visible on his cheek and neck, he got an even better idea.

"Virgil to Kayo, how would you like to take a trip to Los Angeles?"

* * *

There you have it, a chapter where only Alan gets hurt ... until Kayo get her hands on that inventor.

As always, your feedback is most welcome and I look forward to your suggestions. (I really do take each one into consideration.)


	5. D is for Dinosaur

Sorry, I meant to post this early but real life demanded attention. (Don't you hate when that happens?)

So, this chapter is for CyanB and Bedlamx28 for giving me an AMAZING challenge word. (Seriously, I just couldn't resist.)

I'd also like to give a special thanks to my beta for staying up until almost 2am, as well as putting up with my tweaks and questions. (Also, as we finished this around 2am, we may not have caught all mistakes, so please keep that n mind.)

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 4: D is for Dinosaur**

As he walked up the steps of the museum, Alan felt five years old. His dad had _finally_ agreed to let him take part in an archaeology camp with a bunch of other kids his age. They were going to be digging up a real dinosaur! Okay, so it was _technically_ a model, but it was made from real fossils, so it was close enough. In any case, he had been looking forward to this for weeks. At last the day came … and he was the only one there with a babysitter.

"Look, you got me to the museum," he said quietly. "I think you can go now."

"Your father told me to look after you and that's what I'm going to do," Kayo replied, glancing over the other kids like she was trying to spot witch ones might be terrorists.

Then again, she probably was …

"But don't you think it will look a little weird if I go in there with a body guard?"

"Only if you tell them that's what I am."

Alan clamped his mouth shut and followed her through the large double doors. She did have a point. If no one said anything, they might think that she was his sister … who was adopted … yeah.

"Ah, Miss. Kyrano," a middle aged man greeted, thrusting out his hand. "I'm Francis Gold, Museum Curator. Mr. Tracy told me that you would be accompanying his son for security reasons."

Alan tried to shrink back into the wall, hoping none of the other teens in earshot were part of the

camp. It was bad enough having Kayo with him without everyone knowing why. Luckily, she seemed to understand.

"Mr. Gold," she started coolly. "The Tracy family likes their private business to stay private."

"Oh, of course," the curator said quickly. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine. Now, where is the camp meeting?"

They were led to a back room that had been converted into a desert landscape, complete with large pit in the center for digging. Several teens were already hanging around, some looking at a table of fossils while others were in and around the hole. The leader of the group was a man in his late twenties, called Colin McKenzie, who dressed like one of those old fashioned British explorers. He was kind of lame, but the dig itself was fun.

They divided into teams, taking turns in the hole and at the table. Alan was assigned to dig first and soon his group had uncovered a large skull. He was enjoying himself so much that he barely noticed Kayo sitting in the corner … or at least he did until he switched to the table of fossils.

"Who's that?" one of the boys asked.

"Is she in the other group?"

Alan looked around nervously, just waiting for someone to make the connection between them … just waiting for someone to find out he had a babysitter. To his eternal gratitude, Kayo told Mr. McKenzie that she was stepping out and to call if he needed her. This suggested to the other teens that she was with the museum and Alan was able to relax.

"Check this out," another boy said, putting one of the fossilized teeth under his lip.

"Hey!" Mr. McKenzie shouted, taking the tooth in one hand and the boy in the other. "I think you need a break."

While he escorted the trouble maker out, the rest of them went to town with what was left. One kid picked up a small skull and, using it as a hand puppet, went after the others. Alan laughed and dodged the attacks, wishing he had thought to invite Gordon along. But just as he went to circle to the safer side of the table, something snagged his heel and he found himself toppling backwards …

 ***D*I*N*O*S*A*U*R***

Kayo couldn't believe it. Fifteen minutes. She had left Alan for only _fifteen_ minutes, just enough time to walk down the block for a cup of coffee. Now she was heading to the main office of the museum to pick up him because he got hurt. If this wasn't because he did something stupid, heads were going to roll. Of course, if this _was_ because he did something stupid _his_ head would roll, but she could wait for Scott to handle that part. Good thing the kid had another brother who was a trained medic.

"Miss Kyrano," the curator said, extending his hand. "Thank you for getting here so quickly."

"Mr. Gold," she said in a cold –but professional– greeting. "What happened?"

She glanced toward the corner of the room where Alan sat, sheepishly turning away when their eyes met. He didn't have any obvious injury, which was a relief, but that didn't mean he wasn't hurting. However, the fact he was looking anywhere but at her suggested that he was not entirely innocent in whatever had occurred.

"Well," the curator began, clearing his throat. "The situation is rather … odd, and we would appreciate discretion in this."

If that meant he wanted the Tracy family not to talk about it publicly, that was not a problem. As members of International Rescue, they generally tried to avoid publicity. On the other hand, if he's asking for Jeff Tracy not to sue them, that all depended on how much the museum was at fault.

"I'll agree to no press, but will make no promised beyond that."

The man pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow, hinting that there was some fault on the museum for Alan's injury. Well, Mr. Tracy was going to have the final say in how they handled them, he had still entrusted Kayo with the safety and care of his son; that was a job she took very seriously. If the curator didn't start coming up with answers soon, things would not end well for him.

"Mr. Gold, my time is limited. Just tell me what happened to Alan?"

"It's … a … rather difficult to say …"

Rolling her eyes, she turned to the teen, looming over him as she crossed her arms. He meekly raised his head, offering up a weak smile, before dropping his shoulders with a sigh.

"I … uh … got bit."

" _Bit_?" Kayo repeated, glancing from Mr. Gold and back to Alan. "I thought the museum didn't allow animals."

"We don't," the curator said quickly, almost robotically. "For the safety of our guests, staff, and artifacts; no pets are permitted on the premise, with the exception of service animals."

"It wasn't really an animal … exactly," Alan muttered.

Kayo raised an eyebrow, not in the mood for twenty questions. The kid seemed to get this and mumbled the name of the culprit. Positive she didn't hear him right, Kayo shook her head in and attempted to get some clarification.

"I'm sorry, can you say that again?"

"I was bit by a velociraptor."

That's what she thought he had said, but it took another minute to process. Only a Tracy –make that _this_ Tracy– could go to a museum and get bitten by a dinosaur. This was going to be a fun thing to explain to the boys. Not even Gordon's various exploits could top this one.

"Alright then," she said straightening herself up a bit. "How did this happen?"

Alan explained how he and some of the other boys had been messing around at the top of their indoor dig site when he fell in, apparently landing with his shoulder in the jaws of the dinosaur skull they had just dug up. Kayo listened quietly and, when he was done, ordered him to show her the injury.

"Our fist aid team already had a look at it, Miss Kyrano," the curator said quickly.

"How nice for them," she quipped. "Alan?"

Reluctantly, he unzipped his jacket and Kayo could immediately see where the teeth of the model skull had torn into his shoulder, as well as the large wide gauze visible under the holes. Alan went to pull his shirt off too off, but she stopped him when it was clear the movements were making it worse.

"Never mind, I know a faster way."

Flipping out a knife, she sliced through the shirt before anyone had a chance to react. Mr. Gold started reciting the museums policy on weapons, but she didn't care enough to listen. Under the bandage, Kayo found what could only be classified as a bite mark … from a dinosaur. The force of the fall went mostly on his shoulder blade and several of the teeth had broken the skin. In the front, since that was only cause by gravity pulling on the top of the skull and not the weight of a teenager, Alan sported a neat row of bruises and some light scraping. Virgil was going to love this.

"Okay, you can put your jacket back on now."

His movements were stiff and Kayo kept a sharp watch of his facial expression, looking for any additional signs of pain. Apparently, it only hurt when he moved. Good thing the jet was usually a smooth ride.

"So, Miss Kyrano, about the-"

"Mr. Gold, as head of Mr. Tracy's security, I am responsible for seeing that his family remains safe … and dealing with anyone who jeopardize that."

The man gulped hard, taking half a step back. Odd, Kayo hadn't even threatened him yet. But, lucky for him, she didn't have the time to properly … deal with the curator as she needed to get Alan back to the island as soon as possible.

"I will be delivering a full report of this incident to Mr. Tracy and, if he does not get back to you in the next few days, _I_ will. Goodbye, Mr. Gold."

With that, she ushered Alan out and straight to the waiting car. The flight back was a quiet one while she tried to figure out the best way to explain this to the family. But how does one really _explain_ a dinosaur bite?

"Hey, Kayo, I was thinking," Alan said, as the neared Tracy Island. "How about we just keep this between us? I mean, I already got treated by a medic, so do they _really_ need to know?"

"I suppose we don't have to tell the boys," she said dryly. "After all, I'm sure they won't notice the way you wince and cradle your arm, occasionally grunt in pain, or that fact you have a large bandage on your shoulder."

"You're going to tell them aren't you?"

Kayo didn't even try to hide her smirk as she radioed ahead to the island. For once, it was Gordon who answered, immediately asking how the trip went.

"Not as expected," she replied. "Could you tell Virgil to meet us in the hanger with medical supplies? Alan hurt himself."

"What happened?" Scott practically demanded, joining the conversation.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alan squirm in his seat. None of the boys liked to be the one to share an injury with their overbearing oldest brother, especially when it was their own. However, Kayo didn't like it any more than the rest of them, so she did what any self-respecting Tracy would do.

"I'll let Alan explain that."

The teen's jaw dropped and he seemed unsure if he should protest to her or start explaining to his increasingly impatient brother. A single look quickly changed his mind about complaining and Kayo turned her attention to their imminent landing, all the while listen to Alan stammer out an explanation.

"Uh … well, Scott … there was this dinosaur …"

As she began their decent, Kayo game a small smile to the recording light on the instrument panel, hoping the kid wouldn't notice it. This story was just too good not to save.

* * *

What do you think?

I hadn't planned on using Kayo in this way, but somehow her character just felt right for this scenario. (I will have one with Scott ... someday.)

I look forward to your feedback and the inspiration of new challenge words. (Please tell me someone has a word for E ...)


	6. E is for Elephant

Hey, sorry about the wait, but it took me more than half a day to come up with a decent plot line for Alan to get a minor injury in a way that somehow involved an elephant. (With six people requesting the same word, I couldn't ignore the challenge.) Then when I DID come up with something that made sense, I was at work and couldn't do anything about it. Anyway, I hope you like what I (finally) came up with.

This chapter is dedicated to all my readers, especially those who gave me my hardest challenge word to date.

Huge thanks to my ever patient beta, 1monster2, for being willing to look over chapters at random intervals.

I'd also like to note that this chapter touches on some things I never intended to address, primarily Alan views on his brothers involvement with IR. It seemed to work out, so I may include deeper subjects in later chapters ... maybe. I also decided to feature Scott in this one as he hasn't had a turn yet.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 5: E is for Elephant**

Alan practically jumped out of the rental car and raced Gordon to the front gate. It wasn't often that all his brothers got to go _anywhere_ together, much less a carnival. He just hoped that the world could keep itself in one piece for the next two hours so they could make it to the end of the main show. Scott, ever the pessimist, insisted on bringing Thunderbird One and landing it no more than three miles away, just in case.

"We better stay together," the wet-blanket said as the three older brothers joined them. "We never know when Dad will call."

"If," Gordon corrected. "There's no guarantee there will be an emergency."

"Yeah, Scott," Virgil grinned, slapping him on the back. "Try to relax for once."

"Not sure he knows how," Alan teased.

This banter continued all the way through the line and didn't pause until they were strapping into the first ride. As this was a traveling show, the rides were all fairly basic. However, that didn't make them any less fun. Fifteen minutes –and five rides later– later, they headed toward the main tent to give most of them a chance for their stomachs to settle.

"Hey John?" Virgil asked. "How is it that you trip over your own feet because of gravity, but you can take a roller-coaster in stride?"

"Anything that defies gravity feels like home," the astronaut shrugged. "Scott didn't have an issue with it either."

"That's because Thunderbird One _is_ a roller-coaster," Gordon mumbled.

Scott wasn't able to respond as they entered the main tent and advertising their work was against International Rescue policy. Not that it stopped the organization from looming over them, especially with half the brothers checking their watches every few minutes. For a moment Alan selfishly wished International Rescue could just stop existing long enough for him to enjoy a night with his family.

"You alright?" Virgil asked, nudging his arm.

"Yeah, it's just … can't we forget about … you know what, just for tonight?"

His older brothers somehow managed to share a look four ways. There were hints of sympathy and understanding, giving Alan the distinct feeling that some sort of lecture was coming. He already knew what they would say; telling him about how important their work is and how he would feel differently after he joined them, but the point was that he _wasn't_ part of them. Times like this, rare as they were, were the only times he could pretend that they were a normal family … and he was a jerk for feeling that way.

"Hey," Scott said, leaning over Virgil so he could look the teen in the eye. "I know it's hard on you, it's not easy for us either."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed, from his seat at Alan's right. "Most guys just have to worry about sharing the car keys with their sibling; we have to share each other with the world. I mean, I know _I'm_ that awesome, but-"

"The point is," John cut in, jabbing an elbow into the aquanaut from his other side. "With our work, we really can't take a vacation, no matter how much we want to. Believe me, times like this, we _really_ want to."

"Times like what?" Alan asked quietly.

"Hanging out with you," Virgil answered for him. "Spending quality time with each other-"

"Johnny, I think you bruised my rib."

"Don't call me Johnny."

"-Having a night off is a great thing," he finished, ignoring the comments from the other side of Alan. "We never know how long they will last, so we just have to make the best of it."

Alan understood and was really touched that they put spending time with him as such a high priority – not to mention amused by Gordon attempting to stick his finger in John's ear as payback for the rib. He loved his family.

"Knock it off, you two-"

"Two? Scott he's coming at me!"

"-the show's starting."

As far as Alan was concerned, the show had started several minutes before, but even he had to admit that the elephants were far more entertaining than his brother's antics. Thankfully, Gordon settled down and started a running commentary about what the pachyderms might be thinking. While Alan doubted they were plotting world domination, he couldn't help but join in. By the end of the night, both were convinced the Mongo was the mastermind and Daisy was secretly a GDF plant.

He _really_ loved his family.

After the show, the brothers headed back into the carnival –the youngest two keeping an eye out for elephants– when Scott got a signal on his watch. Sobering immediately, they moved behind a closed booth so he could answer.

"Hey boys, how's the circus?" Kayo's holographic form asked.

"It's safe as long as Daisy can keep Mongo in line," Alan answered, dodging a head slap from his eldest brother.

"What was that?"

"Don't ask," John advised. "What's wrong?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to put Virgil and Gordon on alert; there is a tropical storm heading for an offshore research facility and the scientist in it are more dedicated than Brains."

"I didn't think that was possible," Gordon mumbled.

"They are refusing to leave until their experiment is done, which should be at least twenty minutes _after_ the storm is right on top of them."

Even Alan knew how dangerous that was. Living on an island gave you great appreciation for the strength of tropical storms. It looks like their night off was over. Scott signed off and turned to the others, briefly catching Alan's eye.

"Hey John, how about you stay here with Al? I'll take these two back to base to prep and meet you by the main tent in about twenty minutes."

While he was glad that the night wasn't completely over, Alan was still sad to see half his big brothers go. They were having such a good time too! John seemed to sense this and tried his best to keep him distracted until Scott got back.

"Hey, wanna try to win a goldfish?" he asked, motioning to one of the booths.

While his first thought was that Gordon would do it better, Alan figured he might as well try, for the sake of his absentee brother. It took more than $4 worth of ping-pong balls, but he finally managed to sink one in the third row of deceptively small vases. Of course picking out which fish he wanted took longer than winning the thing.

"Alan, there are five hundred fish in that tank," John muttered. "Could you just pick one?"

"There are five billion stars in the sky," he shot back. "Could _you_ just pick _one_?"

In the end, his brother slapped twenty dollars on the counter and the two of them left with five little swimmers. There was one yellow, one black, two orange, and a white one with red spots. He couldn't wait to show them to Gordon! John … well, he wasn't as impressed.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"If you're gonna be like that, _I'm_ not gonna let you name one."

"Who said I _want_ to?"

Alan opened his mouth to answer, but stopped when John grabbed his shoulder. Following his brother's line of sight, he saw some guys, probably around Virgil or Gordon's age, rummaging through an equipment truck behind the main tent. From the looks of things, they didn't work here.

 ***E*L*E*P*H*A*N*T***

Scott pulled up to the carnival in the rental car, and jogged inside. He had barely dropped off the others before he was heading right back out. Sitting out a rescue for a night of entertainment wasn't something he would normally do, but Alan had looked so crushed when they got the signal for a rescue that he had no choice but to re-prioritize. As important as their work was, his kid brother needed him more.

"Scott!"

Stopping short, he frowned when John came running up to him … alone!

"Where's Alan?"

"We saw these guys," his brother panted, clearly not used to running in this much gravity. "They were stealing stuff out of a truck."

While this was a big problem, it was not his priority. In fact, it only made his sense of urgency grow. He took John by the shoulders so he could look him in the eye.

"Where is Alan?"

"He's keeping an eye on the thieves."

He's _WHAT_! Without taking the time to think it through, Scott took off in the direction John had come from, John following close behind. Being part of International Rescue, every member of his family had a strong sense of right and wrong. Alan may not have officially joined their ranks yet, but he was still a Tracy … which meant he was also in big trouble.

"Where did you leave him?" Scott demanded, as the two wove through the crowd.

"I didn't just leave him," John growled. "I had to find security."

"Did you find it?"

"No."

Well this just kept getting better. Scott adjusted his course to take him by one of the vendors, to let them know about the thieves and advise them to call security, before making a beeline for the main tent. He just hoped they weren't too late.

"That kid better be okay!"

"I told him to stay back!"

"When does Alan ever listen to reason?"

John fell silent and Scott felt a twinge of guilt mingling in his fear. Splitting up was probably the best thing to do in this kind of situation, he just wished this kind of situation hadn't happened to his little brothers. Even if John had stayed and sent Alan to find security, the kid would probably still had gotten himself into some kind of trouble.

"Over here," John called, taking the lead.

They circled a tent just in time to see some creep hit Alan across the shoulders with a tire iron, knocking him to the ground and making Scott see red. Now, International Rescue had a policy not to go after criminals and always had to keep a level of calm professionalism … but _that_ was when they were in uniform.

"Hey!" Scott yelled, slamming his fist into the face of his brother's assailant.

The man stumbled back, dropping his weapon and practically falling on top of his friends. John took advantage of the distraction to grab Alan and force him behind them. The only question was, did that make him safe?

"Big mistake, buddy," one of the thieves growled, pulling brass knuckles out of his pocket.

Scott tensed, trying to ignore the throbbing in his hand and shifted so he was slightly in front of both his brothers. John wasn't exactly small, but he was still readjusting to gravity, and Alan was in no shape for a fight. However, the thieves were soon backing away as three of the carnival's strong men joined the Tracy's.

"We'll take it from here," the vendor said, ushering John and Alan to the rear. "Thanks for the heads up."

Under the circumstances, Scott was happy to take a step back … and the thieves were happy to run. They didn't make it far, as one of the animal trainers led an elephant out of the tent, blocking their path. Trapped between the muscle men and 5 tons of pachyderm, they quickly surrendered.

"Good girl, Daisy," the trainer said, patting the elephant's side.

"See! I told you she was with the GDF!" Alan laughed, wincing with the movement.

The older brothers shared a look, left the thieves to the carnival's _security_ , and escorted Alan over to a bench where they could check him for injuries. Other than a couple of bruises, including a particularly bad one that ran from one shoulder blade to the other, he was okay. Thank heaven for small miracles.

"Let's get out of here," Scott muttered, more than ready to get his brothers home.

"Wait!" Alan yelled, hurrying over to a stack of boxes. I have to get the Gordons!"

" _The_ Gordons?" he questioned, shooting John a look.

While his brother face palmed, Alan came rushing back with a plastic bag in his hands. It seemed that "the Gordons" were a small school of fish. That figures.

"The red and white one is Gordon Jr," Alan said excitedly, "and the dark one is Gordon Black."

"Where did he-?"

"Just don't asked," John muttered, leading the way toward the parking lot.

Scott just shrugged and slung his arm around the kid's shoulder, wondering when Virgil would be back to give him a proper physical … and maybe a CT scan.

"The twins are Gordy One and Gordy Two, you can tell them apart because Gordy Two has a dip in his fin. The last one is Gordon-locks … she's a girl."

"Sure, Alan," Scott murmured. "Whatever you say."

Yup, he was defiantly getting a CT scan.

* * *

So, what say you?

I eagerly await your feedback and my next challenge word.

 _NOTE: I am trying to keep the injuries localized to where Alan wears his body armor, as well as having them minor enough to be something armor would prevent, or at least lessen. Please keep this in mind when you suggest words because some suggestions I get (and not just from reviewers, but people I know) are stuff that could potentially leave him crippled or dead. Anything too extreme, or to a different part of the body such as the leg, will not be included in this story ... but may appear in OTHER stories as I write them. ;)_


	7. F is for Fire Hose

Funny story with this one ...

I was having a hard time coming up with a plot before I finally settled on one. Then when I started writing, Gordon went and threw a wrench into the works! (Isn't that just like him?) So halfway through, I start writing a completely different story. (Which was actually an earlier idea that I had scrapped because I wasn't sure how it would work, then Gordon got lazy ... which will make more sense when you read the chapter.)

To make this chapter even more messed up, I wrote is backwards. (The only thing that remained true to my original idea was how it ended, but that part had to be from Alan's POV to work best, so ... yeah.)

Anyway, this chapter is for TheFABFive2015 because Alan just had to go and use their challenge word. (Though it really was Gordon's fault for going and changing the story on me.)

Big thanks to my beta, 1monster2, who read this one and a half time to handle my ongoing rewrites. (And freakishly long length.)

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 6: F is for Fire Hose**

Gordon slapped his alarm and rolled out of bed, instantly greeted by his semi-new aquarium. While it was nice that Alan had been thinking of him when he got the fish, the kid had absolutely no imagination when naming anything. Gordon Black? Gordon- _locks_? He really needed to work on his creativity if he wanted to get anywhere in life.

"Hey," Virgil called, sticking his head in the doorway. "Scott wants us in the lounge."

"This early?" Gordon groaned, slipping his feet into a pair of flip-flops. "I haven't even gotten wet yet!"

Some people started their day with a cup of coffee – see Virgil – some started it with a swim. Others, who were completely insane, started their day with a run and business meeting. Too bad there was no cure for crazy – sorry, Scott.

"So whats with the boredom meeting?" the aquanaut asked, swiping Virgil's cup so he could at least have a little stimulant.

"You mean board meeting?"

"Aren't they the same thing?"

Apparently is was too early for Virgil too, because it took the entire trip down the hallway to figure out what he was talking about. Gordon handed him back his coffee with a look of sympathy. Their brother better have a good reason for this.

"Good, you're up," Scott said from a pile of schematics.

Gordon had a very bad feeling about this meeting.

"Dad had to go to London for at least a week, so he probably won't be back for New Years."

First bit of bad news. It was sad how much their work effected their family life, especially for Alan. Where they were usually distracted with the task of saving lives, the kid could only sit home and wait. Of course, it wasn't usually their father who was called out for the big holidays, which made it even harder on them when he was.

"So," Scott continued, "he told me to oversee the new upgrades to the Thunderbirds."

Aaaand, now the other shoe has dropped. The only thing worse than a bossy brother in the morning was a bossy brother with the blessing of Dad to be bossy. As Scott talked over all the schematics, and Virgil quietly sipped his coffee, Gordon was wondering how long it would take them to notice if he went back to bed. Probably before he made it out the door.

"Hi guys," Alan yawned, stumbling into the room. "Did I miss something?"

"Dad left Scott in charge," Virgil mumbled.

"Run while you can," Gordon added in a whisper.

"I heard that!"

Alan just laughed, but still joined them on the couch. Stupid kid! He wasn't an official part of the team yet, so he had a free pass to opt out of this sort of maintenance. Why doesn't he take it?

"Virgil, did Brains explain what upgrades he had for Thunderbird Two?"

"Yup."

"Okay, you'll handle that."

Gordon rolled his eyes, wanting desperately to point out that, unless Virgil was hospitalized, no one else would be allowed to _touch_ Thunderbird Two without running the risk of being hospitalized themselves. Except Brains, of course, but he built the thing so he didn't count. Next Scott would be telling him that he would be put in charge of Thunderbird Four and he would take care of Thunderbird One-

"Gordon, you're on Thunderbird Three."

"Three?" he echoed. "Why not Thunderbird Four?"

"Because Brains doesn't have an upgrade for Thunderbird Four."

"What can I do?" Alan asked, eagerly.

"Your lessons," Scott answered dryly. "So, does everyone understand their assignment?"

No, Gordon didn't understand his at all. He didn't know anything about Thunderbird Three except that it was big and shot into space. If Thunderbird Four was fine, why was he even here?

"Come on Scott, I can help," Alan insisted. "I could take care of Thunderbird Three!"

"Yes!" Gordon half-shouted, making Virgil jump a little. "I mean, he knows the systems way better than I do."

"Which is exactly why _you_ are handling it," Scott shot back. "We need to know each of the Thunderbirds, in case of emergency. You are already proficient on Thunderbird Two, so now you will work on Three."

"I'm not that proficient on Thunderbird One either," Gordon grumbled.

Scott shot him a look while Virgil lifted his mug to hide his smirk. Alan, on the other hand, shared his outrage. He may not be officially on the team yet, but Thunderbird Three was practically his baby! Still, when the cat was away the oldest mouse would become dictator, such was life. Though maybe there was a way around this … but it would have to be done very carefully.

"Save your breath, Al," Gordon advised loudly, slinging his arm around his only little brother and leading him to the door. "You know how he gets when he's on a power trip."

The kid opened his mouth to protest, but he quickly silenced him with a look. Understanding dawned on Alan's features and his eyes lit up with excitement … which made Gordon have to shush him again to keep their plan from being blown. Thunderbird Three needed upgrades and Gordon had to make sure they got done, but who was he to crush his brother's dream about taking care of his own Thunderbird?

 ***F*I*R*E*H*O*S*E***

Alan climbed the silo of Thunderbird Three, a bag of new parts slung over his shoulder and a roll of schematics clutched in his hand. He had never done an upgrade on his own before –he really hadn't done _any_ upgrades before– but he couldn't wait to show Scott that he could do it just as well as any of them. With Gordon off tinkering in his sub, this was the perfect opportunity.

"Alright," he said as he slipped into the control room. "It's just you and me, Thunderbird Three. Now … where is that access panel?"

He checked the schematics he had brought with him, only to discover that they showed him what the panel looked like on the inside and not where to find it. The easiest way to figure that out would be to call up Brains or Virgil, but as he wasn't _technically_ supposed to be here at all, Alan would just have to figure it out himself. Pulling out his screwdriver, he removed a panel near the main computer … and quickly realized that it was the wrong one. Reattaching the wires as best he could, the teen moved onto the next one. Still not right, but at least he didn't accidentally unplug anything.

"Third time's a charm," he murmured to himself, as he found the correct panel.

Now to find the correct piece for the upgrade. Alan pulled the bag over and started to compare each component to the one shown on the schematic. Apparently, two were needed at this point. Installing them took only a few minutes and the teen was soon screwing the panel back in place.

And his brothers thought he couldn't do upgrades.

The last two components went in the back. It took even less time to install those, since he found the right access hatch on the first try. Alan couldn't see why Gordon always grumbled about this type of work; this maintenance thing was a piece of cake! Speaking of which, there was still some cupcakes left from Lady Penelope's last visit. Since he was done with his work, he deserved a treat. Making his way to the main hatch, he pushed the button … and nothing happened.

"That's weird," Alan muttered to himself. "It was working a minute ago."

Still, try as he might, he could not get the hatch to budge. Desperate to find a way out that didn't include signaling John, Alan pried off the wires for the hatch. Everything looked fine, not that he really paid much attention to what it looked like normally. Maybe he could fine a way to hot-wire it-

"Yow!" the teen yelped, trying to shake the sting from his fingers. "Note to self, check if wires are live _before_ touching them."

With that idea scrapped, Alan tried to think of another way out. Every Thunderbird was equipped with back-ups for everything else, why not doors? Suddenly, he remembered that the loading bay had a control panel on the inside. Quickly heading down to the large compartment, he pushed the button and- success!

"Yeah!" Alan cheered to himself, before remembering that it was an eighty foot drop to the ground. "Oh … yeah."

Still there was no need to panic. As a pending member of International Rescue, he should be able to figure out how to escape his own ship, especially when it was still in the hanger. Looking around the loading bay he spotted his salvation; a giant fire hose. Alan would never tease Brains about low-tech back-up systems ever again.

Uncoiling the heavy canvas tube, the teen dragged it over to the edge of the opening and dropped it down. As long as it was, it was no where near eighty feet. Still, some length was better than nothing. Maybe he could swing his way over to one of the silo's walkways …

"Here goes nothing," Alan murmured as he shimmed down the make-shift rope.

As it turned out, that was just what he got; nothing. Either the rope was too stiff or Alan was too light, because he couldn't move any farther than a few feet in either direction. To make matters worse, his shoes were starting to slip on the side of the hull- make that had slipped. He was now stuck, dangling from a hose, at least fifty feet over the cement floor of the hanger.

"Well, this can't get any worse."

"Alan! What do you think doing!

Scratch that, it could get a lot worse.

"Um .. hey Scott … uh … you don't happen to have a ladder by chance, would you?"

From his angle, he couldn't really see what he was doing, but he could faintly here Virgil joining the conversation … and calling him an idiot. Even so, Alan was willing to bet anything that his big brothers were working on getting him down. Sure enough, he could hear the echo of one of the pods opening up. He just hoped they hurried; his grip was starting to go.

"Um, guys?" he called down. "I don't mean to rush you, but could you hurry?"

"Just hang on, Alan."

"Nice choice of words, Scott," he grunted, moving one hand to get a better grip. "Did Gordon teach you that one?"

His brother ignored his question, but Alan was too focused on not falling to really care. He knew he had only seconds left and Two's rescue platform was raising _way_ too slow. Any minute now he was gonna-

"ALAN!"

The twin yells nearly drowned out the pop he both heard and felt when his shoulder slammed into the platform. The pain was intense, but not in the right spot for a dislocated shoulder. Great, what did he break this time?!

"Alan, can you hear me?" Virgil asked, his face hovering inches away.

"Ow."

"Try not to move too much," the medic advised, shifting his attention to the controls. "I'll have us down in a minute."

It was the longest minute of his life, but soon he was back at ground level being helped off the platform by two extremely worried brothers. Alan really wasn't paying attention to where they were going and the next thing he knew Scott had been replaced by an x-ray machine. It seemed the fall was just high enough to break his collarbone. Wonderful.

"Alan, what were you _doing_ in there?" Scott demanded, as Virgil fitted his arm into an elaborate sling. "And where's Gordon?"

"I … uh … Gordon … well …" he stammered, trying to come up with something that would leave the rest of his body, not to mention his other brother, intact.

He had nothing.

"Alan!" Gordon came racing in, stopping only to catch his breath. "Are you okay?"

"Nothing six or eight weeks of rest won't cure," Virgil answered for him. "So, you want to tell us why he was in Thunderbird Three and not you?"

The aquanaut dropped his eyes to the ground, rubbing one arm nervously. Scott narrowed his eyes, looking from one to the other before dropping his gaze to the ground and letting out a heavy sigh. Alan didn't know what was worse; an angry Scott or a quiet one.

"Gordon, you and I will talk later. Alan, you better do _exactly_ as Virgil tells you. If I hear anything about you going somewhere or doing something you aren't supposed to-"

"I, uh, think I learned my lesson with that, Scott."

He gave him a small smile and the teen could see the tension beginning to lessen, in all his brothers. Of course, that didn't stop Virgil from keeping him in the infirmary the rest of the night for 'observation.' Please! 'Power trip' was more like it. And Gordon thought _Scott_ was bad.

"Hey," his domineering nursemaid greeted, coming into the room. "How are you feeling?"

"The same as I was when you asked me an hour ago," Alan grumbled. "Can I at least rest in my own room?"

"Are you kidding? You don't even use the bed in there," he scoffed. "Beside, you should have thought of that before you disabled the door controls."

"How was I supposed to know that was what those wires were for?!"

Virgil just grinned and turned back to his notes. Yup, he was definitely on a power trip. Luckily, Alan's last hope for rescue from tyrannical older brothers chose that moment to come through the door. Despite the state he was in last time he saw him, and the fact he'd been forced into a sit-down with their reigning tyrant, Gordon came in with a smile … what was he up to?

"Hey, Al, I hear your feeling better."

"Yeah," he answered, shifting slightly. "You too."

"Ah, there's not much a trip down under won't cure."

"You went all the way Australia to escape Scott?" Virgil smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Actually, that was my punishment. But, believe it or not, fessing up to Dad in person is a lot less scary then getting a lecture from Scott the Great and Powerful. Besides, it gave me the chance to get you a present, Alan. You know, to make it up to you."

Something about the way he said that made Alan wish his tyrannical brother was present to protect him from … whatever it was. At least he still had Virgil, though the medic was standing several feet away and looked too amused to be of much help. Gordon stepped back into the corridor and returned with a large rectangular object covered in a sheet. Setting it down on a table, he pulled the fabric away with a flourish to reveal … a bunch of turtles?

"I was _so_ impressed with those fish you gave me, I thought I would do something for you. And since you'll be a little slow for a while, these little guys should make perfect company."

Alan chose to ignore the snickering that was coming from the general direction of Virgil and sent a glare at Gordon. If he could move without pain, he would punch him … especially the next time he opened his mouth.

"This one here is Alan Jr, and the one with the stripe is Alan Brown. These are Allie One and Allie Two, you can tell the difference because Alley Two has a spot on his shell. This last one is Little Red Alan Hood; she's a girl."

Well played, Gordon. Well played.

* * *

So, do you like when Gordon hijacks my chapter?

Let me know if you like this backwards format, I may include it in future chapters.

As always, feedback and challenge words are eagerly awaited. (Please try to stick with nouns as other types words are hard to incorporate into an injury.)


	8. G is for Gears

Alright, here was another tough one (for me).

I actually really like this one and anyone who has taken note of my other favorite fandom will know why. ;)

Big thanks to the three betas who helped me with this; 1monster2, monkeymuse, and a friend who never told me their fanfiction screenname. (You know who you are and you are awesome too.)

This chapter is dedicated to coralie14 for the excellent challenge word and Bedlamx28 for getting almost the same word. Thank you both.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 7: G is for Gears**

Virgil headed down the hallway, wondering what Dad could want at this hour of the morning. It couldn't be a rescue, that wouldn't require a meeting in his father's private office. Come to think of it, _nothing_ required a meeting in the private office except … but he didn't do anything!

"Hey," Scott greeted, almost making Virgil jump. "Did Dad call you too?"

"Yeah … he called you?"

Scott was silent as he pinched the bridge of his nose. There was only one reason that the two of them would be called together: their younger brothers had messed something up and they were going to have to help clean it up.

"Look on the bright side," Virgil offered. "With Gordon at the bottom of the Pacific, there's only one person it could be."

"That's not very reassuring," Scott shot back, pulling open the door.

What _really_ wasn't reassuring was the fact John had joined them via hologram. All three older brothers had been summoned … whatever Alan did, he was in _so_ much trouble.

"Boys," Jeff greeted, looking up from a stack of papers. "Take a seat."

The two sat down in the chairs across from their father while John looked around. After a moment he leaned back, pulling his knee up to his chest so he appeared to be in a seated position. Virgil shared a look with Scott, but didn't bother to comment. They had more important things to worry about.

"I assume you all have figured out why I called you here," Jeff started, folding his hands on top of the papers.

"What did Alan do?" Virgil asked for the rest of them.

"Nothing."

That was a surprise – really more of a shock. The last time the three of them had been brought to their Dad's office, he had managed to replace all the drinking water on the island with sea water. So if he hadn't done anything …

"What did Gordon do?" Scott questioned.

"I _hope_ nothing, but you never know with your brother," Jeff said with half a smile. "Anyway, I just received a report on Alan's standing with his teachers. Some of the grades are very promising."

Some … right. The kid was falling behind in his homework again. Not surprising since he seemed to treat literature as a foreign language and history like it was going to give him leprosy. They had been on him pretty hard in math and science, since that was what most of them were good at and able to teach him, but it was impossible to stick with him for every assignment and those particular subjects always managed to fall through the cracks.

"Is it history or literature?" John asked, seeming to read his mind.

"Well, he's not doing well in either, but he has two weeks to bring his grade up in history or he will fail this term."

Wow, that was bad. None of them had ever actually failed a class before, mostly because they always had Dad or a brother to step in as a tutor. Of course, that was before International Rescue started and took up most of their time. No wonder Alan was failing.

"There _is_ an extra credit assignment that will significantly help in bringing up his grade," Jeff informed them, somewhat hesitantly.

"What is it?" Scott asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"It's a … field trip."

Virgil tensed and he could see both of his brothers doing the same. No wonder their father was using all this formality! The last time John chaperoned a field trip, it took him almost a week to recover and they couldn't get him planet-side for a month. Scott took less time to bounce back when it was his turn to teach the kid; he managed to limp away with a sprained ankle and three days of nightmares. _Lucky_. Then there was Virgil … his last educational outing with Alan _still_ gave him nightmares.

"I understand that this is not ideal," Jeff said slowly.

 _That_ was an understatement. Glancing at his brothers, Virgil could already see their minds at work on a way to get themselves out of this. He was half expecting John to cry 'communications glitch' and blink out of sight. Not likely that Dad would buy it, but it might delay things long enough for one of the Earth-bound brothers to be given the assignment.

"You know, I would love to help," Scott started, clearly trying to sound sincere, "but … uh … Brains and I have been collaborating on some upgrades to Thunderbird One, and you know how he gets. I better stick around here."

"Fair enough," Jeff nodded, giving his eldest the go-ahead to retreat.

With Scott gone that left only two spots; the safe and the sacrifice. Virgil had to think quick if he wanted a chance to follow his brother. Unfortunately the go to –'gotta work on my Thunderbird'– had not only been used by Scott, it had also been used by _him_ the day before when he finished all his upgrades trying to avoid Grandma's latest attempt in the kitchen.

"I'm pretty busy up here," John said, using his favorite line. "It is hurricane season, you know."

Figures he would bring _that_ up. Not that there was ever a time of year without a risk of storms, floods, or earthquakes; but this time of year _was_ particularly bad. Some guys had all the luck.

"Well, Virgil," their dad said cheerfully as John vanished. "It looks like you're up."

"Uh … well, the thing is … I promised to help … um … Grandma."

"Nice try. Here's the details of the trip. Alan should be in his room packing."

Virgil took the papers as if they would turn into a snake at any moment. A weekend in a restored western town learning about how people lived before the invention of electricity. Three days … with Alan … no technology … This was going to be hell.

 ***G*E*A*R*S***

Alan jerked as the stupid stage couch hit another rut. The fact he was still on his seat was a miracle, but the fact Virgil seemed to take it in stride was just annoying. Wait … was he asleep?! With a growl of frustration, made worse by another jolt, Alan shot out his foot and kicked his brother in the leg. Virgil startled a wake, almost falling off the bench when the couch bounced into the town.

"Badger Pass!" the driver yelled, as they jerked to a halt.

Shooting him a glare, Virgil pulled himself to his feet and climbed out the door, taking a moment to swat the side of Alan's head as he passed. Some of his classmates snickered and Alan gave them a look as he followed his brother. What, had they never seen siblings before?

"Alright," the teacher called out, holding a clipboard between the two stage coaches that had brought them to this barren wasteland. "Students, line up over here."

Going along with everyone else, the teen felt a pang of jealously when he saw Virgil sitting on a barrel in the shade of one of the buildings. His brother may look smug now, but Alan knew that he was more addicted to tech than anyone on the planet. He gave the big guy about 12 hours before he started climbing the walls.

After roll call, the students and chaperons were ushered to the hotel. Since Alan had come with his brother, they were placed together in a second floor corner room with a view of the saloon out one window and the courthouse out the other. Based on the courthouse's clock-tower, they only had five minutes to unpack before the first activity.

"Hey Virg?" Alan asked, wondering if the rickety bed would collapse under the weight of his bag. "How could you sleep on that ride? I could barely stay in my seat!"

"You've never felt turbulence in Thunderbird Two," he answered quietly, stashing his bag under his bed. "Ready for the historical tour?"

Alan made a face which caused Virgil chuckle, but he knew his brother was just as enthusiastic as he was: not at all. It was strange to be in a place without a computer or even a light-bulb in sight, and he wasn't the only one to think so. Stepping out of the hotel, Alan heard some of the girls in the group complaining about the lack of phone signal. It seemed that even communication in the town was over a hundred years old. Wait …

"Virgil, do our comms still work?" he whispered in a near panic.

His brother rolled his eyes, but this was serious! What if there was an emergency? How would their family be able to get hold of them? How would they get a hold of their family?

"Seriously, are we cut off?"

"Yes, Alan," his brother answered dryly. "That _haystack_ over there blocks _satellite_ signals."

"Shut up."

Virgil just smirked and followed the group to the front of the courthouse, listening to the guide talking about how they had the oldest working clock in the state. Yippy for them. The group continued to meander down the street, but Alan was too hot and tired to follow. His idea of sun and sand generally included water. Gordon would die in a place like this. He looked up at the courthouse, with its large windows and shaded rooms. It seemed to call him in out of the heat, and Alan couldn't help but listen.

Slipping away from the others, he pushed open the creaky wooden door and stepped inside. The courtroom itself looked massive, but probably wasn't any bigger than the lounge back home. Wandering up to the bench, Alan climbed into the judge's chair, banging an invisible gavel and calling the empty room to order. Next he tried one of the doors and found a staircase leading to the clock tower. That might be interesting.

The mechanism for the clock was huge, and that was coming from someone who once helped work on the engine for Thunderbird One. Granted he hadn't done much, more watching than anything else, but still. For something made from gears and chains, this was impressive.

"Man, why couldn't this be on the tour," Alan muttered to himself. "Virgil would love it!"

Speaking of which, he wondered if his brother had noticed he was gone yet. There was a level under the clockworks where he had seen a door; maybe it led outside. Climbing down, he peeked out to the street and saw the tour guide below, still talking, in front of the jail. Virgil, however, was not paying much attention as he was pacing up and down the street. Alan couldn't see his face very well, but he could imagine what it looked like. If he wasn't careful, he'd probably end up spending the rest of the weekend behind two hundred year old bars. Maybe he should call him …

"Hey, Virgil," he whispered into his comm. "Can you hear me?"

"Alan," his brother growled. "Can't you stay out of trouble for five minutes? Where are you?"

"Um … look up."

He stepped out onto the narrow balcony to wave at his brother. Even from the distance, he could see Virgil's eyes grow wide. Maybe calling him wasn't the best thing to do …

"Get down from there!"

"Calm down, Virg," he said, rolling his eyes. "I've been up _way_ higher than this."

"Alan, that's a _working_ clock-tower!"

At first, he didn't know why his brother was so panicked, then he heard the gears move behind him. The massive hand clicked to the twelve and a giant boom echoed from the tower. A second came, nearly knocking him off balance. A third. A fourth. Alan tried to keep his grip on the thin rail, but the noise of the clock was so loud he couldn't keep from covering his ears. A fifth boom had him stumbling forward and the sixth sent him straight over the edge.

Luckily, the roof broke his fall after just ten feet. Unluckily, the roof was at least a hundred years old. He hear it cracking and tried his best not to move. Virgil was yelling at him, but he was a little too distracted to pay much attention to what he was saying. The edge of the roof was only a couple feet away. Maybe if he was really careful – the next thing he knew he was laying in the jury box with something sharp jabbing into his ribs.

"Alan!" Virgil yelled, practically in his ear. "Alan, can you hear me?"

"I'm lucky I can hear anything with you yelling at me!"

He tried to sit up, but the pain in his chest got worse. He wasn't sure what he had landed on, but the look on Virgil's face made him freeze. His brother was both pale and serious, two things that never came with something good. Moving just his hand, he felt his ribs and found a piece of wood protruding from his chest.

"Virgil?"

"Just relax," his brother instructed, clearly slipping into rescue mode. "You're gonna be fine."

Alan stayed as still as he could while Virgil slipped his hand under his back, obviously trying to find the other side of the plank. A few hour-long seconds later, he let out a sigh and his shoulders relaxed.

"It's okay," he whispered. "You're not impaled."

"But I still have a splinter the size of the _Chrysler building_ ," Alan grumbled. "Get it out!"

However, it seemed that the medic would not be rushed as gentle fingers probed the injury. He only stopped briefly when the teacher and tour guide came in, so he could yell at them to keep everyone out of the courthouse and send someone to get his bag from the hotel. It seemed like forever before they returned with his large duffel.

Tilting his head to the side, Alan watched at his brother tossed aside some clothes to pull out one of his emergency rescue kits. Popping it open, he was able to use a portable ultrasound machine –that Brains was still testing– to determine that the thing had not reached anything vital. Next he slowly removed the wood –which was bad enough– and cleaned the wound –which was worse. A few stitches and a large bandage later, he finally let Alan try standing.

"Ow," the teen groaned, holding his ribs. "Shouldn't they have some kind of warning label on that clock?"

"Why do you think the tower wasn't part of the tour?" Virgil shot back, packing up his kit.

He tucked it back into the bottom of his bag, covering it with clothes. Then he let out a sigh, appearing to relax back into brother mode. However, when he looked up, his expression made Alan wished he was still in rescue mode.

"What were you thinking?! You could have been killed!"

"I … uh … just wanted to get out of the sun."

The excused sounded lame, even to him, and Virgil just stared at him for a moment before face-palming, muttering something under his breath. Alan could only stand there awkwardly, not really wanting to stick around but way too sore to make a run for it. He was just glad it wasn't Scott who came with him; he'd would have been dead by now, no doubt about it. On that note …

"Hey, Virgil … why did you bring a high tech rescue kit on a no-tech field trip?"

He could see a hint of a smile on his brother's face, as a gentle arm wrapped around his shoulders to support him as they slowly made their way to the door. Suddenly, Alan knew exactly why he had that kit; he thought something was gonna happen! Virgil had absolutely no faith that he could stay out of trouble for … oh … yeah. As quickly as the anger had risen up in him, it faded and the teen gave the big guy a smile.

Sometimes it was good to have paranoid brothers, especially when they came medically trained.

* * *

So, what do you think?

Not sure if I will go with John, Scott, or Kayo in the next chapter. (Trying to stick with the siblings ... a group which Kayo _totally_ is part of.) If you would like to include your vote with your feedback and challenge words, I will take the one with the highest popularity. (Yay democracy.)

I look forward to your next challenge. ;)


	9. H is for Hammer

Hello again!

I meant to have to have this up last night but, due to medical reasons, was delayed. (I hope it was worth the wait.)

This chapter is for everyone who voted for hammer ... which was a surprisingly hard word to use.

A big thanks to my betas; 1monster2 for being available in the middle of the afternoon, and Moneymuse for her input in the planning stages. You both rock. :)

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 8: H is for Hammer**

Scott slung a sack of tools over his shoulder and picked up his grapple launcher, heading into the main hanger. Thunderbird One had taken a hit in the last rescue and now the engine sounded off. In most vehicles a strange sound is worrying, but not a death sentence. In a Thunderbird, it meant automatic grounding.

"Hey, Scott," Alan came running in. "Do you have time to take a trip to Thunderbird Five?"

It was hard not to grimace at the question. After the kid's last training flight nearly got Thunderbird Three crushed by an asteroid, their father had increased the training hours he needed to get certified. On top of that, their resident astronaut was refusing to leave space until it happened, so that usually left Scott as the stand-in flight instructor. _Lucky him_ … Fortunately, today he had the perfect excuse.

"Sorry, Alan, but I have to fix Thunderbird One."

"I'll help, that way it will go faster."

Scott could almost feel the color drain from his face. It wasn't that he didn't love spending time with his kid brother, but …

"No."

At least he was able to put it nicely.

"Come on, Scott, I've studied the schematics. I can do this!"

He looked so sincere that it was hard to say no. Not impossible, but hard. Alan had never worked on an engine like this before and, no matter how well he knew the schematics, his first attempt should not come when he had to hang from the ceiling.

"Not this time, Al."

A flash of orange heading out of the hanger gave Scott an idea. If the kid was so set on working on a Thunderbird, why not give him the easiest one to access? At least with the sub, you could stay at ground level.

"I think Gordon is doing some maintenance on Thunderbird Four. Maybe you could help him."

"Sushi!" the aquanaut yelled from the doorway.

That squid-sense must give him amazing hearing, but didn't make him any easier to understand. However, Alan seemed to get it … somehow. The kid's eyes widened slightly and he swallowed hard.

"I … uh … can't work on Thunderbird Four."

"Why not not?" Scott asked, eyes narrowing. "Did Gordon say he would make you eat sushi if you touched his sub?"

"No, he said he would make me _be_ sushi if I touched his sub."

Figures. After the asteroid, no one wanted him near their Thunderbird. Scott could only imagine what Virgil threatened him with and, lucky for John, no one who went to Thunderbird Five stuck around longer than it took to unload supplies. Which left their youngest brother high and dry, or in this case low and dry.

"Sorry," Scott said, giving the kid's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I wish I could help."

"You could take me up in Thunderbird Three," Alan offered hopefully.

Wow, he walked himself into that one; there really wasn't a way out now. With a sigh of resignation he nodded. The look of pure joy on his brother's face made it worth it … almost. There was still a lingering fear of asteroids, but Alan promised to stick to a basic supply run this time. In any case, they weren't going anywhere until he got Thunderbird One up and running.

Scott shot out his grappler and pulled himself two hundred feet in the air. Attaching the line to his belt, he got to work removing the access panel and taking a look around. The damage wasn't obvious, but-

"Do you know what's wrong?"

Startled, Scott turned to see Alan hanging next to him wearing a tool belt. What part of 'no' was hard to understand? And where did he get those tools? Were those Virgil's? But in the end, it didn't matter. The only important thing was that he got back down before he hurt himself.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Relax, Scott, you know how safe these harnesses are," he said, motioning to the contraption around his waist. "I could sleep in this thing! Besides, Dad wants me to learn all the Thunderbirds, what better way than to watch you work?"

While that may be true, his big-brother senses would not quiet down until the kid was back on solid ground. Still, if he just stayed where he was and didn't touch anything, it _might_ be okay. Against his better judgment, he finally relented and turned back to the engine.

"Here's the problem," Scott muttered.

One of his engine components had manged to get knocked loose. It took a few minutes to secure it back in place, but then he saw another problem. The loose component had knocked around during his flight home and bent another piece. In an engine, warped parts could cause serious problems.

"Is it fixed now?" Alan asked eagerly.

"No," he sighed. "I gotta get a replacement part."

Taking the grappler in his hand, Scott repelled down to the ground, suddenly noticing that he was alone on the hanger floor. His brother was still hanging by the nosecone of Thunderbird One. Now what was he doing?

"Alan," he said into his comm. "Are you stuck?"

"No, I just thought I would wait for you here."

"Alright, just don't touch anything."

"Hey, it's me!"

Yeah …

 ***H*A*M*M*E*R***

Alan swung his feet, waiting for Scott to get back so they could finish this and get up to Thunderbird Five. From where he was hanging, he could see into the engine compartment of Thunderbird One. Now, he might be partial to his red rocket, but he had to admit that his brother's plane was a beautiful thing. Maybe he could get a closer look?

Rocking back and forth, Alan managed to grab hold of the edge of the access hatch. Of course, he had to let out some more slack in his line, but not enough to worry about. Peering into the hatch, he couldn't keep the smile off his face at the sight of the engine. It was so beautiful … except that part; one flaw in the form of a bent piece of metal.

It was a shame that Scott was grounded because of something smaller than his hand. Worse than that, it was so incorporated in the rest of the mechanics that it would likely take an hour to remove and replace. If only there was something he could do … then he remembered the tool belt. Alan had swiped it off of Virgil's workbench and wasn't even sure it had what he needed. Let's see … he had some knives and chisels- bingo! There was two different sizes of hammer.

"Better use the big one," Alan told himself, pulling out the tool.

He moved into a position to better access the bent piece and went to work. Ever so slowly, the now dented metal started to straighten out. One more good whack should– oops!

"Oh no," Alan groaned as the hammer slipped, clanging as it fell into the machine.

Scott was going to kill him … _if_ he found out.

Alan looked into the compartment, seeing the hammer sitting at the bottom. For once, he was glad to have skinny arms. Careful to avoid the mechanics, he inched his hand down into the opening and felt around for the hammer … but just felt air.

Pulling himself up with his other hand, Alan stretched as far as he could until his fingers brushed against wood. It took a bit of work to get a grab on it, but once he did, he pulled up – and stopped. The tool must have gotten snagged on something. Putting his shoulder against the engine, Alan twisted his arm, freeing the hammer – and putting him off balance. He feet slid down the side of the plane and he could almost hear the engine tearing into his shoulder. The pain was bad, but he was able to lessen it by pulling up with his other hand. Fighting to get his feet back under him, he quickly realized that his angle was wrong. To make matters worse, his arm was stuck.

"Oh man, oh man," he whimpered. "What am I gonna do."

The first thing he was going to do was calm down. He was a prospective member of International Rescue and couldn't lose it just because his shoulder was hurt … and bleeding. He could see red slowly spreading across his shirt and knew that he needed to think of a way out of this and fast. Scott would be back any minute! If only he had taken his advice and gone with– Gordon! He was working on Thunderbird Four in the next hanger over.

"Gordon, come in," he grunted into his comm, biting his lip as he waited for an answer.

"Hey, Alan, you okay?"

No; he was pretty far from okay, but this had to be handled delicately if he wanted to stay off the radar of a certain overbearing big-brother. Letting out a slow breath, he spoke as calmly as he could, praying it would be enough not to send the aquanaut into a panic that brought the whole island down on him.

"I just need your help with something in the hanger."

"Okay, I'll be there in a second."

"Yeah, but before you come … promise not to tell Scott."

"What'd you break?"

"Just promise."

"Fine, no Scott. See you soon."

The pain was getting worse and Alan really hoped his brother hurried. It seemed like forever before Gordon's voice returned, from both his comm and faintly from the direction of the door. Thank goodness!

"Okay, I'm here. Now where are – ALAN!"

"Help."

"Just hang on, I'll be right there!"

Hang on? If he could let go, he wouldn't even be here! His thoughts were cut off when a grappler shot past him, bringing Gordon right behind it. He had a calm, professional air, which Alan immediately recognized as his rescue-mode. Good; none of his brothers yelled at him when they were in rescue mode.

"Okay, I need you to relax while I get your arm free."

Alan nodded and did as he was told, unable to stop the whimper when his shoulder was removed from the engine. He didn't know how bad the damage was, but he was honestly too afraid to look. Gordon rapped a clean rag over the injury and held onto the teen as the two lowered to the ground.

"You okay, Alan?"

"Yeah," he answered, forcing a weak smile on his face. "I'm okay."

"Good," Gordon replied, lifting his comm. "Virgil-"

" _Traitor_!"

"Hey, I said I wouldn't called _Scott_."

"What is it, Gordon?"

"Can you bring your med-kit to the main hanger? Alan hurt himself."

He might as well have turned on a siren. Virgil came, full medical equipment in tow, as well as Kayo. Scott showed up half a second behind them, since only Gordon promised not to tell him anything. At least their father and Grandma had gone to the mainland, he couldn't take much more smothering.

"I have to ask," Kayo said, looking the teen over. "Why are you holding a hammer?"

"Uh … I was trying to fix … ow … the engine."

"With _that_?" Virgil gaped. "Alan, those are my _wood-working_ tools. I use them to make models for Brains."

That explained the chisels. Unfortunately the revelation had another effect; Scott's eyes just turned stormy. Confirming that the teen was in no immediate danger, Scott used his grapple launcher to pull himself up to the open access hatch.

Something told Alan that he was not going up to Thunderbird Five –or anywhere else– for a very, _very_ long time.

* * *

What do you think?

As usual, the floor is open for questions, comments, and suggestions. Next up, "I" ...


	10. I is for Ice

Hello everybody.

So, my hometown is having a bit of a heat wave, so I wrote this with cold thoughts in mind.

This is dedicated to coralie14 for the challenge word and CyanB for making a suggestion a long time ago that influenced this chapter. (If I tell you what it was, it will give things away. However, I did not follow it exactly ...)

Huge thanks to my beta, 1monster2, for her help in sorting out the long list of typos.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 9: I is for Ice**

Kayo left Mr. Tracy's private office, feeling much less confident than when she went in. It seemed that Alan's online friends had invited him up to a lodge in the mountains or the weekend. While she wasn't worried about the boys themselves –she and John had checked them out thoroughly– the trip still gave her pause.

Ever since the launch of International Rescue, the safety of the Tracy family was a top priority, especially for her. As head of their security, Kayo took the personal well-being of each member, from Grandma down to MAX, as her personal responsibility. Which was why sending the youngest of her surrogate brothers halfway around the world did not sit well with her.

"Hey," Virgil greeted, coming down the hallway. "How'd your meeting with Dad go?"

"Alan is still going."

She heard a quiet cheer from somewhere behind her and shared a look with the middle brother. Not that she hadn't known she was being followed –Alan wasn't exactly a master of stealth– but it was still annoying. However, she knew how to wipe away the smug expression that was, no doubt, on the teen's face.

"So he has authorized me to accompany him as chaperon."

This time she was listening for the groan that came from the closet door –Really Alan, the closet?– and shared a smile with Virgil. As team medic, he had also been concerned about the upcoming weekend, but he was needed at the island in case of a rescue call and couldn't accompany the teen himself. So, he did the next best thing.

Two hours later, Kayo knew more about first aid than she had ever thought possible.

"You can bring this kit with you," Virgil offered, closing the large case. "It has everything you might need."

"I appreciate it, but do you have anything a little more … subtle?"

He looked over the box that was large enough to be used as an ottoman, or possibly a short coffee-table. While Kayo understood his desire for the best medical care to be available in case of an emergency –and with Alan, there was a good chance there would be one– it would be hard to carry while hiking in the snow. Conceding to her point, Virgil put together a smaller pack with just the essentials. Much better.

"Kayo!" Alan called racing in the room. "I talked to Dad. He said that you can treat this like your own vacation and don't have to follow me around all the time."

"Of course," she replied with a soft smile.

He grinned and ran back the way he came, no doubt to finish packing. She turned back to Virgil who had an expression that could only be described as the-cat-who-ate-the-canary. Narrowing her eyes, she gave him a silent look that demanded an explanation. He just chuckled and grabbed another small pack, filling it with the same things he had packed in the other one.

"It seems Alan believes that you are going to step back and let him have his vacation alone."

"That does appear to be the case," she agreed.

"But is that really the case?" Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You seem to think so, since you are making a second first aid pack for Alan."

The medic gave her a slightly guilty smile, but didn't stop his preparations. Of course, he had taken his kid brother on a trip or two himself, so he understood the risks involved. Gordon may be the family trouble-maker, but Alan was its Houdini; getting himself in and out of trouble with the skills of a master. The second kit was not an insult to her ability to keep track of the boy, it was a tribute to his ability to get lost.

Knowing Alan as well as she did, Kayo would take all the help she could get.

 ***I*C*E***

Alan pressed his face against the window, feeling like it was Christmas already. Living on an island, you did't see snow much … okay, ever. The closest they ever came to a blizzard was when he and Gordon tried making pancakes from scratch and were promptly banned from the kitchen. Who knew flour was that hard to clean up?

"Have you seriously never saw snow before?" Jacob Thorpe asked from the seat behind him.

"Sure I have," Alan replied, sitting back. "It's just been a while."

"It must be awesome to live on an island," Ricky Sheridan commented. "Do you have, like, volcanoes and water falls and stuff?"

"It's not that big of an island, but we do have a cove that's great for snorkeling."

Not that it was the best part of the island, but he wasn't supposed to talk about the underground network of hangers and labs. This weekend he was just an average teenager … who happened to live on an island owned by his father somewhere in the South Pacific. Of course, Ricky lived on his uncle's estate on Long Island and Jacob's dad owned a big cattle ranch in Montana, so neither of them were exactly poor. How else could they afford to rent a private lodge at a ski resort for a weekend?

"So, Alan," Mr. Thorpe asked from the front seat of the SUV. "What does your dad do for a living?"

"He … works in technology."

True, yet vague. Kayo would have been proud, if she wasn't in the other vehicle. For a big car, it only seated five and Alan had –miraculously– managed to convince her he would be okay riding with his friends and Jacob's dad. So, she was riding up with Jacob's mom and sister. Of course, she would much rather had been allowed to drive, but the resort was taking care of that part.

"Sounds lucrative. Must keep him busy."

"Yeah, his work keeps him on his toes."

And all the rest of them, but that was going into too much detail. Better change the subject. So, Alan asked about what activities the resort offered and the rest of the ride was spent planning what the boys were going to do all weekend. If they managed even half of what they wanted, he was gonna sleep for a week when it was over.

"Here we are!" Mr. Thorpe announced, as they pulled up in front of a rustic looking lodge.

The boys almost fell on top of each other trying to get out of the car as fast as possible. After all, they had a big weekend planned. First they were going to go on a snow hike down to the frozen river, and tonight they were gong to make smores. Tomorrow they were going to go snow tubing, skiing, and snowboarding in that order-

"Alan."

Or he was going to have the most boring weekend imaginable staying as safe as possible.

"I'm just going on a hike with the guys," he groaned, turning to his unnecessary babysitter. "We won't even go that far."

"Who said I was going to stop you?" Kayo pointed out, slinging her pack onto her shoulder. "I just wanted to remind you to stow your bag before you leave."

"Oh … uh … okay."

Getting similar instructions from the other adults, the three boys dropped their luggage off in what had to be record time, and headed off to the woods – after Mrs. Thorpe reminded them to stay safe, not go far, and bring water bottles with them. Suddenly, the way Gordon called Scott a mother hen made a lot more sense.

"Can I come too, Alan?" Becky Thorpe asked sweetly.

"Sorry, but you gotta stay here with your mom and dad," he answered, ruffling the six-year-old's hair. "Maybe you could play a game with Kayo."

His suggestion got a look from his self-appointed bodyguard that silently reminded him that her babysitting responsibilities lay with him and only him. He just shrugged and went off to join his friends outside. Hanging out with the kid may not be the most fun thing to do around here, but at least it was something to do.

The trio walked for about ten minutes before arriving at the river. Alan's first thought was that it was one of the prettiest things he had ever seen, and his second was wondering if Gordon would try swimming in it. Honestly, he probably would … on a dare … unless Scott stopped him.

"Wanna go skating?" Jacob suggested.

"Uh … I didn't bring any skates …" Alan said slowly, trying to gauge how thick the ice was.

"Don't worry, last year we just used our shoes," Ricky assured him.

While he sill wasn't sure, Alan hesitantly joined his friends at the edge of the river. The three glided up and down, slowly at first, but soon they were racing from one bank to the other. It was so much fun that the teen had almost forgotten his fears … until he saw something on the trail.

"Hey, Jake," Ricky nudged their friend. "Isn't that your sister?"

Jacob groaned, but Alan frowned. A kid that small shouldn't be out in the snow by herself, much less on a frozen river … or climbing an ice encrusted log … oh-no!

"Becky, stop!" he yelled, skating across the river as fast as he could.

It wasn't enough though and Alan could only watch in terror as the small girl slipped and started falling headfirst toward the unforgiving ice. Acting purely on instinct, he dove down, slamming his shoulder into the frozen river and skidded to a stop under the log, just in time to have 50 pounds of screaming child land on his stomach.

 _Ow_.

"Becky! Alan! You okay?" Jacob panted, Ricky coming up right behind him.

Alan was finding it hard to speak without air in his lungs, so he just nodded before gasping for breath –which would be a lot easier when the kid got off of him. But when she wrapped her little arms around his neck, he couldn't help feeling good … even if he couldn't breathe.

"Oh Alan, you saved my life!" she announced dramatically. "You are a hero!"

"Becky, I think you better let go so your hero can breath," Ricky suggested.

The little girl planted a kiss on Alan's cheek before sliding off him, but sat dropped to the ground the second she tried standing, letting out a shrill wail. Finally able to get some air, he turned to see what was wrong now.

"My foot!" she sobbed. "I broke my foot!"

Moving stiffly from his own fall, Alan pushed passed the pain to check on the broken foot, finding instead a sprained ankle. Luckily, he had the kit Virgil had given him and quickly located the ace bandage between the gauze and antibiotic ointment. Trying to remember how Virgil did it, he mummified the kid's foot and put a couple of his extra socks over the injured limb to keep it warm before they got back to the lodge.

"Wow, Alan," Ricky whistled. "Where did you learn that?"

"I live on an island, remember?" he said casually. "It's about seven or eight hundred miles to the nearest doctor. We all have to know this kind of thing."

It was true – since Virgil didn't have an actual medical degree – and gave enough information without having to give away the family secret. He was getting good at this!

"We better head back now," Jacob suggested, pulling his sister on his back.

Alan nodded as Ricky helped him to his feet, hovering nearby the whole way back. He wanted to point out that it was his shoulder that hit the ice, not his head, and he was at no risk of passing out, but just didn't have the energy.

They reached the lodge just as the sun was starting to set, where they were greeted by two worried parents and a slightly amused Kayo.

"Thirty minutes," she commented. "Not exactly a record, but it has to be in the top ten. What happened, you lose a fight with an icicle?"

"It was a river, and it wasn't my fault," Alan grumbled.

She seemed skeptical until Becky, once again, declared him to be a hero. Between the little girl's dramatics and the boys' more accurate account, they were able to explain what happened. By the time they were through, even Kayo was agreeing with the title.

"We can't thank you enough, Alan," Mrs. Thorpe said, as they sat around the fire later that night. "If you hadn't been there-"

"But he was there," Kayo cut in, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder as she started to cry.

Mrs. Thorpe nodded, holding Becky a little closer. It was a good sight to see, even if it has cost him a lot of bruising. He wondering if this was what his brothers felt like in-

"He should join International Rescue!"

Alan almost choked on his hot chocolate at the little girl's announcement. Kayo smirked behind her mug, as Mr. Thorpe explained to his daughter that people don't just join something like International Rescue.

"It's not like the army, Honey. You don't sign up."

"But he could," she insisted. "He's a hero and that's what they are too."

Try as they might, no one could convince the girl otherwise. Alan shared a look with Kayo and the two of them excused themselves for the night. It was hard enough to keep the secret when it wasn't the topic of discussion, and the teen didn't want to risk letting anything slip.

"It's true, you know," Kayo said as they headed to their rooms. "You would make an excellent member of International Rescue."

"Yeah, well try telling my brothers that."

"I already did."

Alan stopped dead in his tracks. She told them about how he saved the kid … which meant she probably told them about how he hurt himself doing it. The only question was, was this a good thing or a bad thing?

"What did they say?"

"They're all very proud of you."

"Oh?" Alan asked, standing a little taller. "So you didn't tell them about my bruises?"

"Of course I did."

"Oh …" he muttered, shoulders drooping slightly. "What'd they say about that?"

"Virgil said you should put some ice on it."

His brother had a wicked sense of humor.

* * *

So, any good?

Please let me know what you think, and include suggestions for the next chapter. (I can't write without challenge words.)


	11. J is for Jellyfish

Okay, so I was planning a different story for J - with some difficulty - but got a second vote for this challenge word. (I always go for the most popular vote, if there is one, and in the case of a tie go for the one with the better chance of injury.) This is why I am posting at 2:30am; I only just finished and got it back from my beta. (It also didn't want to end ...)

I'm going to say right now that I have never encountered a jellyfish and the research I did was not the most helpful, but I did the best I can so please be kind if I got something wrong. (Remember, this story was written between 10pm and 2am, including research.)

This chapter is dedicated to the two reviewers who selected the challenge word, TheFABFive2015 and CyanB, the latter of which added a suggestion for John. (Luckily, it was his turn anyway.)

A bigger than usual thanks to my beta, 1monster2, for going over the chapter at 2am so that I could post tonight.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 10: J is for Jellyfish**

John had never been more nervous to take the space elevator. It wasn't that he didn't trust the cable or the pod, both had been designed and built by the best engineer on the planet. No, what made him pause was what would be waiting for him on the other side – or rather, who would be waiting.

"Hey, John," Scott's hologram appeared before him. "You coming? Dad said you would be here an hour ago."

"Yeah, I just had a few things to … uh … take care of."

Like his fear of returning to Earth. It was completely irrational, but he couldn't help it. He was still having nightmares about that stupid asteroid …

"So … Alan still hasn't got his certification?"

"No, he still has about five hours left."

John sighed, silently berating himself about how stupid he was being. It wasn't like anyone was going to tell him to take Alan back up in Thunderbird Three, not after last time, but the kid had a way of getting people to do things they never planned on …

"Don't worry, John," Scott assured him with a comforting smile. "Dad already talked to Alan and, unless it's an emergency, Thunderbird Three is grounded until you're back up there."

It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. With Alan's membership to International Rescue still pending, any call out to space would probably be handled by him and Scott. He could handle that. Besides, he had kept his family waiting long enough and Gordon was only going to turn 19 once.

The ride down was as smooth as ever, and John was really looking forward to spending time with his family. Birthdays in particular were always special on Tracy Island. Dad usually took time off –providing there wasn't a call out– and the whole family spend the day together swapping stories and sharing food. It wasn't exactly a party per say, but the festivities lasted from sun-up until the last person crashed for the night.

"Hey, John!" Alan greeted, the second he stepped out of the elevator pod. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too," he replied, wrapping his arm around his youngest brother. "So, where is the usual welcome wagon?"

"The others headed to take care of an earthquake in Italy."

John frowned. Earthquakes were never a good thing, but in places where cities were built on the water, they were even more dangerous. Luckily, for the people of Venice, the epicenter was in the southern part of the country. Still bad, but not as much as it could have been.

"So …" Alan started, using his casual-I-want-something voice. "Since they're gonna be gone for a few hours-"

"I'm not taking you up in Thunderbird Three," John stated firmly.

"Of course not," he said, eyes wide with forced innocence. "I was thinking more like jetting over to Brisbane."

The way he talked, flying to Australia was no different than walking down to the corner store to buy some milk. Then again, that _was_ where they usually went for groceries … However, John had gone on enough outings with Alan to know that simple trips were rarely simple, and without a good reason he wasn't going to the cove with the kid. He just go back to terra firma as it was!

"Sorry, but I was gonna change and take a nap."

"You could always sleep on the plane," Alan offered.

John's eyes widened slightly as he realized what that would mean. While there were no asteroids in the Pacific, he wasn't exactly eager to put his brother at the helm of anything bigger than a red wagon. The kid seemed to catch on to what he was thinking and quickly brought up auto pilot as an option. Still, he couldn't see any good reason to go tearing off to Australia.

"Why do you even want to go to Brisbane?"

"I gotta pick up Gordon's birthday present."

Oh … that's a good reason. Letting out a sigh of resignation, he went to go change while Alan fueled up the jet –with the firm understanding that he was to leave all flying to John and not touch the navigation computer. After checking in with his dad to let him know where they were going, and ask if he needed anything, the astronaut joined his eager little brother in the small hanger. Suddenly, he was having a very disturbing flashback …

 _There were no asteroids in the Pacific._

Take off went as smooth as could be expected and –for once– Alan was behaving himself. They had clear skies ahead and would be landing in Brisbane within the hour. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Do you think I can fly on the way back?"

 _There were no asteroids in the Pacific._

"Um, maybe Scott can take you out later, or Virgil."

Though he looked like he wanted to protest, Alan accepted that he would be nothing more than a passenger this trip. Smart kid. He was quiet the rest of the flight and they made it to Brisbane without incident. So far so good.

"Okay, so where is the gift you want to pick up?"

"Montgomery Sea Life Center."

Of course it was.

 ***J*E*L*L*Y*F*I*S*H***

Alan hurried up to the gate of the aquatic zoo and immediately started a search for their main offices. He had figured out the best gift _ever_ for his sea loving brother … and fortunately his father had agreed to pay for the bulk of it. He would stop by the gift shop on the way out for his contribution, but Dad had said that it could be from him since it was his idea. Gordon was going to flip over this … if he just had to find the director …

"Hey," John called, jogging up to him. "You know you passed the gift shop, right?"

"Yeah, they don't sell what I'm looking for."

"And what are you looking for?"

"A great white … or a killer whale … maybe a dolphin … I haven't decided yet."

John blinked at him, wheels almost visibly turning. But before he could start lecturing about how they couldn't put any of those on the jet, Alan caught sight of an employee and hurried off to find out where the director was. Luckily, it wasn't far.

"Alan, have you lost your mind?" John asked, following him to the conservation building. "You can give Gordon a _shark_ for his birthday?"

"It doesn't have to be a shark," he shot back, finally seeing the director.

Leaving his gaping brother behind, Alan rushed over to the only man he had seen so far wearing a suit. The minute he introduced himself, the director's eyes lit up and he pumped Alan's hand long enough for John to join them and figure out what was happening.

"We were so pleased to get your call," Mr. Bryant gushed. "And I think what you are doing for your brother is incredible. I mean, adopting one of our animals in his name, your family's contribution to our park is greatly appreciated."

"Uh … you're welcome," Alan mumbled, finally prying his arm free. "So, which one do we get? Can we have one of the sharks? Or maybe a killer whale?"

"At the amount your father gave us, you can select any animal in the park," Mr. Bryant said with a wide grin. "Of course, he did explain that whichever one you chose, it will remain here?"

"Oh, yeah, he made that really clear."

"Alright then. I will take care of the paperwork, you just let me know which of one you want to adopt."

Alan nodded and headed back into the park, John close behind. His brother was quiet –even more than usual– and he couldn't resist giving him a sideways glance … only to find that he was staring at him … smirking.

"You're getting Gordon a baby sea creature?"

"It might not be a baby," Alan shrugged. "But can you think of anything better?"

"No," John admitted. "Although, you do know what this makes you, right?"

"What?"

"A stork."

Alan gave his brother a light jab in the ribs, which he dodged, but suddenly the teen didn't care anymore. Following the signs, he went into a exhibit with a huge glass wall separating him from the biggest fish-tank he had ever seen, and the biggest sea creature he had ever seen. Only one eye was visible among the mass of tentacles, but it seemed to have locked onto him.

"He's perfect," Alan breathed.

"He's actually a she," John said, reading the plaque next to the squid.

"Gordon won't care. Come on, we have to go tell the director."

"Lead the way, Mr. Stork."

He was never going to forget that, was he? Well, he could deal with payback later. It seemed that finding the center's director so easily the first time had been a fluke as the man roamed the aquatic park the a speed that was super-human. Deciding the best way to locate Mr. Bryant quickly was to split up, Alan took the northern half of the grounds and John –reluctantly– headed south. Finally, the teen came across someone who had just seen the director heading back to the conservation labs.

Alan sent a quick call to John, telling him to meet him there, and headed into the labs. It seemed word had spread about who he was –and how much money his family had donated to the park– since he met with no resistance and was ushered back to where the boss was inspecting several tanks with blue goo floating in them.

"Mr. Bryant," Alan called. "We would like to adopt the giant squid."

"Excellent!" the man beamed. "I've already had the paperwork drawn up, we just have to add the names. What is your brother's name, again?"

"Gordon Cooper Tracy," he replied. "Just curious, what's the squid's name?"

"Goldilocks."

Alan bit back a laugh, thinking back to his brother's aquarium back home. This was just too perfect! As Mr. Bryant called the main office to have the paperwork finished and brought over, the teen casually moved to the edge of the walkway so he could look down into the tank of blue goo. Something about the blobs seemed familiar to him, but his visits to Australia rarely included the beach. Why would they need to? He _lived_ on a beach!

"Make way!" a voice yelled –a little too close to where he was standing.

The teen looked up to see a box rolling toward him, taking up the entire walkway and not giving him much room –or time – to get out of the way. His only option was to hop up on the railing above the goo-tanks and hope it didn't hit him.

"Alan!" he heard John yell, as his brother came racing across the room. "Get down!"

 _How_? The giant crate was in the way, there was nowhere to go! But before he could even open his mouth, the guy pushing the load reached him and an elbow knocked the teen off balance. Alan fell back, going headfirst into the water. Now, that would normally not be a problem – he had been tossed into the pool at home enough times – however, the goo seemed to set his back on fire. The burning sensation spread, wrapping over his shoulder, and it was all he could do not to scream.

The next thing he knew, he was back on the walkway and someone was dumping water on him. There was also someone kneeling in front of him –a very comforting someone.

"John?"

"I'm right here, Alan. You're gonna be okay."

He nodded, letting whoever it was take the sting away. Of course it didn't really go away, but at least he didn't feel like he was burning anymore. Furthermore, whoever it was treating him was definitely not Virgil and could take a few lessons on gentleness. Finally, they declared Alan fit to move and instructed John to take him to the hospital if his symptoms get worse.

"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Tracy," Mr. Bryant gushed, though Alan wasn't sure which of them he was addressing. "I promise you that worker will be severely reprimanded."

"No sweat," Alan said, putting on a grin. "It was an accident. Do you have those papers?"

Finishing up their business under John's constant scowl, Alan got the necessary documents and headed toward the gift shop. His shoulders ached, but it could have been worse … probably.

"Hey John, what kind of goo was that?"

"That 'goo,' as you so elegantly put it, was a tank of bluebottle jellyfish. What were you thinking climbing up on the rail? Don't you know those things are poisonous?"

He did _now_. Alan made a mental note to ask Gordon about what other harmless-looking sea creatures it was best to avoid, but that could wait until after his birthday. Speaking of which-

"Hello, Goldilocks," he greeted a large, plush squid. "Ready to go home and meet your new daddy?"

"Don't think this is over," John said, as the two headed for the check out. "Virgil is going to have to look at those burns and you know what will happen when he does."

Alan shuddered at the thought. You couldn't stub your toe on the island without their resident medic finding out about it, and he tended to report everything up the chain of command – which usually meant Scott. Yup, he was going to have a long night.

Luckily, they managed to beat the others back and Alan was able to get his burns treated by Brains while being fussed over by his Dad. Not ideal, but it beat than the alternative. He was feeling better anyway, mostly because he was able to get immediate treatment after the sting and had almost forgotten about it by the time dinner rolled around. Thunderbird One arrived while they were setting the table and Scott went straight to the grill to help their father. So far so good.

Thunderbird Two showed up half an hour later and, after a quick shower, Virgil and Gordon joined the rest of the family by the pool. After they ate, Gordon opened his presents. First he got a new diving computer from Brains, to keep track of his depth and oxygen supply. Then he opened a copy of _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_ from John, to replace the one Alan had accidentally dropped in the pool a month before. After that was new goggles from Grandma, a t-shirt from Scott, a four-inch diving knife from Kayo, and then it was Alan's turn.

Still moving a little stiff, he pushed the giant gift bag across the pool deck and stood back, eager to see his brother's reaction. Suspicious at first, Gordon tore away the tissue paper and laughed, pulling out the toy to show everyone else. Alan had pinned a card to one of the tentacles and the birthday boy ripped open the envelope, and frowned.

"Happy Birthday … _Daddy_? What the-"

He opened the card and the adoption papers dropped onto his lap. Gordon took a minute to read them over, his eyes growing wider every second. Alan grinned at John, but his older brother just rolled his eyes. He was just jealous because his gift wasn't as cool.

"You got me my own _squid_?!" he cheered, jumping up to give Alan a hug.

"Yup," John answered for him. "And he has the scars to prove it."

Now Gordon may not be as bad as certain older brothers – who had now abandoned their cake and were headed Alan's way – but he was still one of them. Holding the younger teen at arms length, he looked him up and down, finally giving up and just asking what John was talking about.

"It's not a big deal," Alan insisted. "Brains already took care of it."

"Yes," the scientist agreed, more than likely trying to be helpful. "He was only stung twice and the jellyfish were removed immediately."

It was so easy to forget that Brains was an only child.

The rest of Gordon's birthday was spent with Alan rotating from one brother to the next. First it was Virgil, wanting to get a look at the damage himself. Then came Scott, who wanted a detailed account of what happened and to lecture on how things like that could be prevented in the future. Last came Gordon, who pulled out one of his oceanic encyclopedias and showed him every poisonous sea creature known to man –with pictures– and how to survive them. But the time they got to the end of the list, Alan realized John was gone.

"Hey, aren't we missing someone?" he asked, looking around the pool.

"He said he was going back up to Thunderbird Five," Virgil explained. "Something about there being no jellyfish in space."

* * *

So, do you like my take on Gordon's birthday?

I'm off to bed now, but I eagerly await my next challenge word and suggestions as to which brother will be featured. (I've used each twice now, so anything goes ... except John, because he was in this one.)

Goodnight.


	12. K is for Kung Fu

Okay, so this one is shorter than I intended, but it just seemed to wrap itself up. (It must be the fact it's Kayo, as she is pretty straight forward most of the time.)

Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to the people who requested a chapter with Kayo and martial arts, particularly kung fu. (That would be taylorj2000 and TheFABFive2015, but an honorable mention goes to CyanB who suggested Kayo with karate instead of kung fu.)

Big thanks to my beta, 1monster2, who was given the option of going to sleep and having someone else look over the chapter, but stayed up to do it herself. (Your sacrifice is appreciated.)

* * *

 **Chapter 11: K is for Kung Fu**

Alan sat at the edge of his seat, enraptured by the video playing out in front of him. It didn't matter that the dubbed dialogue didn't match the character's lips, what they were saying had nothing on what they were doing. Surrounded by a whole dojo full of fighters, the main character was holding his own with just his skill and a single nunchaku. He wasn't even breaking a sweat!

"Alan!"

"Yeah, Grandma?" he called back, eyes still glued to the screen.

"Are you still watching those old movies?" she tutted, sticking her head through the door. "Your father and I are going to the mainland for supplies. You want to come?"

"No thanks."

He saw her shaking her head out of the corner of his eye, but he was more interested in the way the man in the movie landed on his feet after being thrown by his opponent. This guy was amazing! Once the credits were rolling, he flipped off the screen and raced down the hall.

"Hey, Kayo!" he called, coming into the lounge.

As he expected, she was sitting on the couch going over some security plan or another. At least he assumed that was what it was; it had the GDF logo in the top corner. But, true to form, she set it aside to see whatever it was he needed. That was the great thing about siblings, they always had time for you … even when they weren't technically your sibling.

"What is it, Alan?"

"Can you teach me Kung Fu?"

"You're serious?"

He scowled at her tone, confirming that he was completely serious. He had just spent the last six hours watching some of the greatest fighting films that were ever made, and she was treating them like a joke!

"Alan," she said, in the same placating tone Scott used when he was humoring him. "You do know that those films Gordon collects are all 90 years old, right?"

"So?" he huffed. "Martial arts are still around; y _ou_ even use them."

"Yes … but it's not _exactly_ the same thing."

No, because she wasn't exactly Bruce Lee. That guy was a master. Still, Kayo was no slouch; she had to know some moves he could use. Not that Scott would ever let him use them on a rescue, but it wouldn't hurt to know how to hold your own in a fight … especially when you were the youngest of five brothers.

"Come on, can't I train with you? I'm a quick study; I know I'll pick up Kung Fu just like that!"

He snapped his fingers for emphasis, but Kayo hardly looked impressed. She just shook her head and sighed. It was official, she had been spending way too much time with Scott … which was especially noticeable when the lecture started.

"First off, Alan, I don't use Kung Fu as it is not practical."

"But the guy in the movie-"

"Was choreographed. How can I tell? Fights – _real_ fights– don't last that long, and nobody lands on their feet after being thrown. Furthermore …"

Alan blinked, his mind trailing off. He was a little surprised that she knew the details of a movie that she seemed to think was a waste of time. Did she secretly like old martial arts films? Was that why she learned how to fight? Was that _how_ she learned how to fight? It would make sense; Kayo once told him that she learned best by doing. Maybe studying Kung Fu was the same way.

" … and that's the way it's going to be," she stated, apparently done with her lecture.

"Yeah, okay," he nodded, hoping she hadn't said anything too important. "So then … you're _not_ going to teach me?"

Kayo rolled her eyes and picked up the printout she had been studying. Yup, she was done. It didn't matter though, Alan had figured out an even better teacher: Bruce Lee himself. Of course, he wouldn't be able to get the man in person –it was somewhat impossible with him being dead– but he could get the next best thing. After all, Gordon owned every film the man ever made.

What better way to learn than by doing what the master did?

 ***K*U*N*G*F*U***

Kayo set aside her third security plan with a sigh. The higher-ups in the GDF wanted more access to International Rescue technology. While that wasn't about to happen, they were going to have to negotiate new security terms for working alongside each other. Mr. Tracy had given her the job of selecting which of the proposed plans would be implemented. In her professional opinion … she would be writing one herself.

Not how she had planned to spend the day.

Getting up, she started headed toward her room to get her computer so she could start drafting. It was going to be hard to come up with a compromise that didn't put her family at risk, but if it had to be done– a sudden crash caught her attention. She raced in the direction it came from and found the door to the rec room was open. As the boys were out on a call, it wasn't hard to guess who had gotten into mischief.

"Alan?" she called out, looking around the seemingly empty room. "Alan, are you alright?"

The initial lack of response worried her, but not as much as the small sound coming from under a pile of training equipment. Rushing over, she pushed aside weights and bow-staffs to find her youngest surrogate brother laying on his stomach under a 120 pound training dummy. _How_ _did he get himself into these things_?

Kayo lifted up one end and he was able to slide out from under it, before she let it drop to the floor. She could pick it up later, right now she needed to make sure Alan was alright. He was coughing – which was a good sign as it meant that he was also breathing – and appeared to be more bruised than anything else. While her first thought was that it served him right, she still felt some sympathy for him. However, as his big sister, it was her duty to make sure he saw the error of his ways in the kindest, gentlest way possible.

"You know, the goal is to knock down the training dummy, not the other way around."

"Hey I was doing just fine until-"

"Gravity got in the way?"

He shot her a moody glare as she pulled him to his feet. If she was to guess, Kayo would say that his pride took the hardest hit, but that didn't mean she wouldn't tip Virgil off to check out the kid's back when he got home. Still, she need feel bad for Alan. It wasn't often he got really excited about something outside of International Rescue. Not to mention the fact that all his brothers had their own hobbies –with the exception of Scott who seemed to believe that watching out for younger siblings counted as a pastime– and it was only fair that he had one too.

"Alright," she caved. "If you want to learn to fight, I will teach you."

"Yes!" Alan cheered. "Thank you-"

"Oh, don't thank me yet," she said with a smirk. "Your first lesson is what real fighting looks like. You may not like it."

"Please," he rolled his eyes. "How bad can it be?"

Ten minutes later, the rest of the boys cam in the room –and they immediately lost Gordon to a fit of laughter. Scott and Virgil looked both amused and sympathetic at the sight of their youngest brother. Alan, well he just looked pathetic. Wrapped in a foam suit from head to foot, the teen waddled across the training mat to where Kayo was waiting.

"What's going on here?" Scott asked, clearly suppressing a chuckle.

"Kayo is going to teach me Kung Fu," Alan said, obviously not caring about the padding.

"For the last time, I don't use Kung Fu," she sighed. "My fighting style is a little … faster."

To make her point, she sent a kick into Alan's stomach and knocked him onto his back. He grunted, but it was probably more from surprise than pain. Of course, she would have o be careful not to aggravate his bruises, but the pillow she stuck in the back of the suit should do the trick there.

"You alright?" Virgil asked, helping him back to his feet.

"Me? I'm great," Alan insisted, but his voice was not as confidant as before. "Didn't even feel a thing."

"We can always try it without the padding," Kayo offered, getting back into her fighting stance.

"No!" Alan yelped. "I mean … uh … why rush? Practice makes perfect, right?"

The rest of the boys laughed, until Kayo offered for them to join in. Suddenly, the room was a lot emptier … No matter. Alan was the one wanting the lesson. He stuck it through for the next hour while she got in a good workout. It seemed he really was serious about this fighting thing. Well, he got through lesson one, that was the first step.

However, there was still lesson two …

* * *

So, what do you think?

Let me know your thoughts and any challenge words you have for "L" -not to mention which brother you want to see featured in the next installment- as I always try to give you what is requested.


	13. L is for Lasso

So, this one didn't go quite as I planned, but I think it turned out better this way.

This chapter is dedicated to CyanB for her western roots, which led you to a great challenge word. (Actually, all of the ones she suggested are present ...)

Thanks again to my betas, 1monster2 and my still unnamed friend. I'd also like to give a shout out to my nephew who has been giving his approval on some of the most recent plots. (Love ya, buddy!)

I hope you all remember what happened with the "gears" ...

* * *

 **Chapter 12: L is for Lasso**

Alan's life was not fair. Four days prior, he had been forced into the desert on an educational trip that taught him nothing, except that it was best to leave clock towers alone. He had left, less than an hour after arrival, with four stitches, a slight concussion, several cuts and bruises, as well as a deep sense of gratitude that he had a medically trained brother who made courthouse calls. While all that was bad enough, this … this was just too much.

"What do you mean I have to go back?" Alan demanded. "That place almost killed me! Just asked Virgil."

"The school cannot give you a passing grade just because you got hurt," his father stated. "You never finished the assignment. However, they are giving you a one week extension on your lessons, so you have plenty of time to heal. Besides, you weren't exactly blameless last time."

Alan looked away, suddenly reminded of how much of a headache he had cause his dad when he broke a hundred-year-old courthouse. No only did Jeff have to deal with the medical side of things, he had to call in a legal team to figure out who was at fault. Surprisingly, the blame was laid on the tour for not securing the more dangerous parts of the town. Unfortunately, that only got Alan off the hook from a legal standpoint; in the court of Dad, he was not so lucky.

"Is this a punishment?"

"I was wondering the same thing," Virgil grumbled from his seat on the couch.

That was another thing. If he had to go back, it meant someone had to go with him, and their resident medic was not pleased. Well, how did he think Alan felt? The chaperons just have to hang around, he actually had to take part in stuff. So not cool.

"I wish I could help," Scott said with a shrug. "But I still have those upgrades to Thunderbird One to deal with."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about those," Brains stated. "I won't have them ready for installation for at least three weeks."

Alan shared an evil smile with Virgil as their eldest brother stammered to find another good excuse for why he should stay home. It took him several second to come up with one, but it wasn't exactly good.

"You know who is really good with history? John."

"Leave me out of this," the holographic astronaut cut in. "It's still hurricane season. I'm monitoring three storms as we speak."

"Well, if you guys are needed-"

"Nice try, Alan," John smirked. "These storms will have passed long before you have to make your stage."

Some days, your luck just ran out.

"You know, you guys are pathetic, right?"

All four brothers turned to see Gordon coming from the stairs, still dressing in his swimwear and drying his hair with a towel. Alan wasn't sure what he was talking about, but the teen was ready to protest– and then his waterlogged brother spoke again.

"Seriously, it's a field trip. How bad can it be taking Alan on a field trip?"

"You wouldn't know, because _you've_ never had to," Virgil snapped.

"Yeah … why is that? I mean, I'm an adult too. Isn't that the only requirement?"

The three eldest brothers exchanged glances as their father cleared his throat. Suddenly Alan was having a hard time not laughing. He knew why Gordon was never his chaperon; they didn't trust teenagers to stay out of trouble! Granted, at barely nineteen, he was on the older end of things. Still, a teen was still a teen … and _that_ teen was about to blow his top.

"Oh, so you can trust me to dive a mile underwater to save strangers, but not to hold my own brother's hand when he crosses the street?" Gordon growled.

Jeff moved forward to say something, but just then his phone rang. Glaring at the interruption, he silently asked Scott to handle the situation while he answered the call. Dropping his voice slightly, their older brother tried to do just that … but there were a few other words echoing in Alan's ears that made it hard to concentrate.

"It's not that we don't trust you-"

"What do you mean holding my hand?!"

"-but situations like this are … different."

"You mean more dangerous than piloting a sub through an underwater channel, in an earthquake, to reach the nuclear waste barrels before they burst?"

"Actually," Virgil muttered. "It's pretty much just like that."

Alan scowled at his older brothers, torn between wanting to argue with them or just start throwing punches. As their dad just got off the phone, it was probably best not to start a fistfight just yet. Not surprisingly, Jeff had been able to follow their conversation as well as his own. What was a surprise –more of a shock actually– he agreed with Gordon!

"If you want to take the job of chaperon for Alan's trip, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't."

Based on his expression, Alan would guess Scott had a reason or two … or eight. To be honest though, the teen didn't care. Gordon was way more fun to hang around with than his other brothers and always could find a way to make learning interesting, like the time he used a sailboat to teach him trigonometry. It didn't exactly end well, but Alan still got his work done. Maybe this field trip wouldn't be so bad after all.

 ***L*A*S*S*O***

Not that he would ever admit it, but Gordon was beginning to see his older brothers' point. They had made it to the third day of their trip and already he had to pull out the colossus of all med-kits seven times. Granted, three of those times had been for himself, but Virgil was going to flip out when he saw the number of band-aids and gauze that was missing, to say nothing of the pain killers.

"Hey, Al?" he whispered as they climbed into the back of a large wagon. "Do you think we can keep the fights to a minimum today?"

"Tell them that," his brother snapped.

It was true, most of their problems had come from scuffles with the other teens. Gordon was even starting to wonder if this class came from a reform school the way they handled themselves. Had Scott know about this, he probably would have come himself, as well as brought along Virgil for good measure. Gordon wasn't exactly a slouch, but Virgil had been compared to a bear – more than when he was woken up too early – and Scott had this commanding presence that had made military personnel back down. Yup, he could really use those two right now … not that he would admit it.

"Hey," one of the other kids sneered. "Bet'cha ain't used to this much sand living on a cozy island, are ya?"

"Actually, since it's a tropical _island_ , we have quite a bit of sand," Gordon answered for his annoyed brother. "We also have a lot of sun, in case you were wondering."

"Shut up," he grumbled, sulking in his seat.

The aquanaut shrugged and continued to work on his lariat, encouraging Alan to do the same. The leather braid had been a godsend, as it was something they could do to take their minds off the jerks they were forced to work with whenever they got particularly annoying. Of course, as a chaperon, Gordon could pretty much duck out whenever he liked, but he had promised to look after Alan and that was just what he was going to do.

"I'm glad to see that some of you had made good progress on your lariats," the tour guide, Greg, praised, looking over almost thirty feet of braid at Gordon's feet.

It had been a _very_ annoying weekend.

"They'll come in hand in our next activity," Greg continued as the wagon stopped in front of a large corral. "Ladies and gentleman, welcome to cattle country."

If he hadn't promised his father he would be as boringly mature as Scott, Gordon might have commented that the town counted as cattle country as they were only about a mile from Main Street. However, the responsible grown-up just shared a look with Alan and climbed down, coiling his handmade rope as his brother did the same.

"Today we are going to show you how the cowboys of the west used to brand their cattle," Greg explained. "Now these calves are already marked, so we are just going to use cold irons, but the process is the same …"

He kept talking while three guys came out into the corral at the same time a calf was let loose. One of the cowboys roped the animal while another moved in to knock it down and tie it's legs. The third man stepped up with a long iron rod with a circular end and pressed it gently into the calf's side. Then they released the calf and climbed back over the fence. The whole process took less than a minute. It was so impressive that Gordon, looking down at his rope, wondered if he would be able to pull it off with one of his brothers. Not the branding part, of course, but it would be interesting to see how fast he could rope and tie Scott –it would be about the only way they could get him to stay still.

"Now," Greg continued. "The students will all get into teams of three and everyone will get a turn at each role."

Gordon frowned, tying off his lariat to make a lasso, not unlike the ones the kids were being given. This activity didn't sit well with him and he wished they would let him be on the other side of the fence. These city kids had had it out for Alan –and to a lesser extent, him– since they had showed up. He didn't know how, but someone had discovered that they came from the South Pacific and the jealousy grew from there.

He would hate to think of what would happen if they realized their father _owned_ the island.

So, he kept a sharp eye out as two of the biggest headaches on the trip got themselves paired up with Alan. They taunted and teased, while his brother remained calm – aside from the clenched fists – and focused on his work. First he roped the calf – and his natural skill had Gordon making a mental note to get his help with his plan to catch Scott – then he was on the branding iron. But when his kid brother took on his third job, something wasn't right.

"What are those creeps up to?" Gordon muttered to himself, climbing up to straddle the rail.

The two boys in question shared a sly look and the one with the lasso started to twirl the loop above his head – and throw it around Alan! Before his brother could even react, they had him on the ground and tied. Now, Gordon may have thought about doing the same thing someday, but that was sibling privilege. These jerks didn't have the right to tie Alan's shoes, much less his hands. Swinging his own rope, Gordon caught the bigger of the two and pulled him off his feet.

"Hey!" he snapped, jumping into the corral. "Hands off my brother!"

Unfortunately, he had roped the one who wasn't holding the branding iron and now the tool was coming straight at his head. Good thing fifteen years as the reigning prank king had given him good reflexes. The metal bar swung over his shoulder and Gordon took the opportunity to knock the kid down with an uppercut to the jaw. With both bullies down – for the time being – he shifted his attention to Alan. The kid was struggling against the ropes, looking mad enough to chew barbed wire. He came up with a few remarks he could say, but they could wait until they had a more familial audience.

"You okay?"

"Fine," Alan grumbled, before his eyes went wide "Look out!"

Gordon didn't even have a chance to turn around before he was shoved onto his back – which gave him a great view of the guy he had punched slamming the branding iron into his brother's shoulder. For the next several minutes, all he saw was red …

"So, let me get this straight," Virgil said, at he treated Gordon's swollen knuckles back at the island. "You didn't want Alan fighting, so … you beat up the kids."

"Hey, they had it coming!"

He shared a look with Scott who was, thankfully, the only other person in the exam room. Alan had been seen first – somehow avoided a dislocated shoulder – and was in his room resting, while their father was on the phone with Badger Pass to figure out who was to blame _this_ time. At least the kid was able to complete enough to get his extra credit. It he had to go to that town one more time, he would probably set it on fire.

"It doesn't matter if they deserved it," Scott scolded. "When you go on one of these things, you are _supposed to be_ the responsible adult."

"Kayo would have hit them," Gordon grumbled.

"That's because it's my job," she said, stepping into the room. "Speaking of which, did you happen to catch the names of those boys?"

"Kayo," Virgil warned.

"Merely a follow up."

Gordon chuckled, remembering took late that one of their lucky punches had caught him in the ribs. He was all too happy to give her everything he had on the guys. Heck, he might even be able to get a blood sample, if he could figure out which stain was which.

If those punks had thought big brother was bad, he couldn't wait for them to meet big sister.

* * *

So, you like my attempt at a sequel? (Granted, "Jellyfish" kinda played off asteroid, but I still think this one is more direct.) Who do you think will get blamed for this little incident?

Let me know what you think and keep the challenge words coming. :)


	14. M is for Machine

Sorry this chapter is so short, but I have been up for almost 20 hours and REALLY need to get some sleep, so I cut it short ... and this too.

This is for all the reviewers for asked for machines, Virgil, and Brains. :)

Big thanks to my beta for staying up late with me ... again.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 13: M is for Machine**

Alan lounged on the couch, flipping through a magazine … for the fifteenth time. His brothers were out on a rescue that required all of their attention, so –as usual– he was left behind to fend off boredom on his own. He should have gone on the mail run to the mainland with Dad and Grandma. Anything was better than doing nothing … unless the nothing included tanning on the beach. Unfortunately, even the weather seemed intent on ruining his day and it was raining; and when it rained in the tropics, it _rained_.

"Hey John," he said into his com.

"What is it Alan?" came the distracted reply.

"How long until the rain stops here?"

His brother sighed, but otherwise stayed quiet … for several minutes. Alan was beginning to wonder if he was going to get an answer when a brief weather report came over the line. No actual storm warning for the area, but he was not going to see the sun until it was almost gone. _Fantastic_.

"Cheer up," John said, slightly less distracted. "There's plenty you can do around the island."

"Says the man who's happiest staring out the window," Alan grumbled back.

"Hey, you would too if you had my view."

True enough. He signed off with his brother just as Dad called in to report his final approach. Not having anything else to do, Alan joined Brains in the small hanger to welcome them back. However, it seemed the near-giddy engineer was looking for something important.

"Mr. Tracy-"

"Yes, Brains," Jeff smiled, holding out a large box. "Your package came."

Curious, Alan followed his friend as he almost skipped back to his lab. He hadn't seen Brains so happy since he managed to find a way to turn plastic into some weird alloy-thing. The excitement in the air was enough to make the teen perch on the edge of his seat as Brains unwrapped … a metal cube.

"Um …" Alan scratched his head. "Tell me that's not a paper weight."

"I don't think so, but you never know," the engineer said with a wink.

It seemed that he knew as much about the package as Alan did … which was a little concerning. He explained that he had been invited to take part in an invention competition against some of the greatest minds in the world, for a ten thousand dollar prize – and Alan wondered if they would be so eager if they knew he was the man who built the Thunderbirds.

"Each of us received a machine built by one of the others. Our task is to discover what our machine does before anyone else."

"Sounds easy enough," Alan shrugged. "Any rules against someone helping?"

"Not at all."

For the next several minutes, the two poured over every side of the cube, but there was no indication what it was supposed to be. The walls were etched in lines, making it hard to find any moving parts, and it was way too heavy to be hollow. Maybe it really was a paper weight after all.

"Hey, Brains?"

"Yes, Alan?"

"What was the one you made for?"

"It is a pogonotrophy machine."

"Meaning … ?"

"It grooms facial hair."

Uh-huh … Well, Alan wished who ever got that one luck, because if it was anything like this one, he would be walking on the moon before they figured it out. Speaking of this one, Brains finally found a moving part; a small strip the slide aside. Leaning over the machine, Alan glanced what was inside and saw a small red button.

"I guess we better push it," he muttered, looking at the thing upside-down. "Can I do it."

"Sure, but you might want to-"

 ***M*A*C*H*I*N*E***

Virgil sighed as he made his way to the storage closet in the infirmary. It had been a pretty bad one, but it would have been a lot worse if not for the towing cables on Thunderbird Two. How a sub could manage to drift so far with no engines, he'd never know. He would have to remember at ask Brains about the design to see how it was even possible. Speaking of which-

"Hey, Brains," he greeted, narrowing his eyes when the engineer jumped.

"Uh … hello Virgil. Um … what brings you here?"

The better question was, why was his friend trying to sneak into the infirmary? He didn't appear to be hurt and he would tell him if someone else was … wouldn't he? Best to just let it play out until the medic could get more information.

"Just getting some supplies to restock Thunderbird Two. How about you?"

"Well … um … the most important thing is that we remain calm."

Uh-oh, this was worse than he thought.

"What happened?"

"It's really not as bad as it sounds," Brains continued, scratching the back of his head nervously.

"Well, why don't you tell me how it sounds, then I'll judge how bad it is."

"It's really just a little thing … I only came in here to get your suture kit."

And that was when Virgil's heart stopped.

Sutures meant stitches, stitches meant blood. A lot of blood. But who was bleeding? Gordon had only just got back with him; even that joker couldn't need stitches after five minutes on the island … probably. Scott had been back for almost half an hour, so it could be him. Alan had been home all day, so he was more likely, but Kayo's job was more dangerous. Then there was Dad and Grandma-

"Breathe, Virgil," Brains ordered. "I'm telling you, it is not as bad as it sounds."

"Someone needs stitches, it's as bad as it sounds," he snapped, grabbing his med-kit. "Where are they?"

Somewhat reluctantly, he led the medic to his lab where Alan was holding a rag to his chest. That was all Virgil needed to see to go into full rescue mode. He hurried over to his brothers side, lifting the kid's bloodstained shirt to get a look at the damage. His patient, however, was not the most cooperative.

"What did you bring _him_ for?" Alan growled.

"I couldn't help it! He caught me in the infirmary."

"It's just as well I did," Virgil stated. "Were you _stabbed_?"

"No!" Alan insisted; just as Brains said, "not exactly."

Sometimes getting a straight answer about an injury around here was like harvesting ice in July; you can only get it if you knew where to look.

"Brains, what happened?"

"Well, Alan was helping be study a machine that I received from a college …"

He went on to explain that the thing appeared to be some sort of hot dog roaster … which they discovered when Alan pressed a button and got the roasting spit stuck into his ribs. At least they had the sense to pull him off before it started turning.

"So, you were were laying on the machine when you pushed the button?" Virgil asked, as he closed the wounded with a couple of stitches. "What part of that seemed like a good idea?"

"Shut up."

He couldn't help but chuckle at his grumblings. Ice in July never came easy, but it was always satisfying.

* * *

So, what do you think?

I look forward to your comments and suggestions for N.

Goodnight.


	15. N is for Net

I'm very sorry this one was so late, but I have been working eight hour shifts all week, at a physically demanding job, and have been just too tired when I get home to write. However, I have not forgotten about all of you readers and spend most of each shift plotting out what will be in the next chapter. (I have also started getting feedback from my co-workers on what ideas are best.) That being said, this chapter had been planned out yesterday, but I only just know got a chance to write it down.

I would like to dedicate this chapter to coralie14 and Maximumbaby18 for giving me the challenge word, AS WELL AS Thunderbirds lover and Bedlamx28 for giving me inspiration. (It is not _quite_ a nightmare, but ... well, you'll see. ;) )

Huge thanks to my betas 1monster2, for her editing skills, and my STILL screen-nameless friend. (I _will_ learn her secret identity, someday ...) I would also like to give a shout out to my friend and roommate, Beebee, for being a listening ear while I work on the stories and pushing me to write more.

Side not, I did get a request for this chapter to be about John, and _normally_ that would be enough for me to comply. However, I had an _earlier_ request for another brother that I wanted to address.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 14: N is for Net**

Alan grumbled to himself as he stumbled down the hallway toward the main hanger. He hated inventory. Hated it more than homework; more than almost anything. He would rather go on a five mile run with Scott, sit through an opera with Virgi,; eat Grandma's meatloaf surprise … okay, that last one might be a bit extreme.

"If you want to be part of the team, you need to do all the jobs," his father had said.

Well, that was all well and good when it came to counting emergency blankets and band-aids, but when was he going to be able to get to the cool jobs? What about diving practice or repelling? When did he get to co-pilot Thunderbird Two or fly Thunderbird One? Answer: _never_.

"Where to start … " he murmured, finally selecting his eldest brother's plane.

The cargo bay of Thunderbird One was not big, but it still held everything Scott might need for a rescue. There were grapple packs, auxiliary jet packs, med-kits, and other much more mundane things that Alan didn't care to label. However, he still had to count it. Four emergency blankets, one extra set of boots, two extra uniforms, one set of rain gear … this was exhausting.

"This kind of work could put a guy to sleep."

His comment may have only been half serious, but those emergency blankets were starting to look very comfortable. Alan hadn't slept well the night before, and it wasn't as if he had never taken a nap on the floor. Maybe resting for a few minutes _might_ be okay. Spreading one of the blankets in the corner, he stretched out and closed his eyes …

 _Alan found himself standing at the top of a canyon, looking down into the valley below. To his right there was a small town nestled at the bottom with a river running trough it, to his left was a cracking cement dam. With only minutes until total destruction, Scott was giving out orders so they could save the town._

" _We will need both Thunderbird One and Two on the evacuation," his grim voice came over the comm. "Alan, it's up to you to keep the dam in one piece until we can get those people to safety."_

" _You can count on me!"_

 _Jumping onto his rocket glider, he swooped down toward the doom structure with a foam cannon at the ready. Back and forth he flew, shooting each crack as they appeared until the entire side was covered with structural foam. Mission accomplished._

" _Alan, you did it!" Virgil praised through the comm line._

" _I couldn't have done it better myself," Gordon added._

" _Good job, little brother," John said, joining the others. "That foam will keep the dam stable until it can be repaired. The town is completely out of danger now, thanks to you."_

" _We couldn't have done it without you," Scott stated, his voice filled with pride. "How would you like to fly Thunderbird One home? I think you've earned it."_

 _Alan felt ten feet tall. Not only had he saved the town but he had showed his brothers how well he could help out. To top it all off, he was getting to pilot Thunderbird One! Could this day get any better? But even as he had the thought, he realized something was off; his rocket glider was not flying as to should._

 _It began to shake and rose quickly into the air, then it bucked to the side, sending Alan spinning toward the canyon wall. He hit hard, sending a jolt of pain through his back and ribs. He hit again, this time his shoulder-_

Alan opened his eyes in time to keep himself from sliding face first into a box of grapple packs. How was he moving while laying on a blanket? Why was he so sore? And when did Thunderbird One go sideways– oh crap.

 ***N*E*T***

Scott maneuvered Thunderbird One through the storm that was currently ravaging the fishing boats on the Bering Sea. He had never been more thankful for the harness on his seat, though he suspected he might have some sore ribs for a while. Brains had better finish upgrading his stabilizers soon, flying without them was a literal pain.

"Okay, Thunderbird One," John's hologram said, hovering beside him but looking at open air to his left. "That vessel should be right under you."

The pilot checked his scanners, picking up the sinking ship and its crew of five. At least they hadn't lost anyone yet. He opened the cargo bay doors and prepared to fire a stabilizing line–

"Scott!" John shouted. "Drop altitude now!"

Confused, but knowing better than to argue with that tone, he brought Thunderbird One down until it was just a hundred feet above the vessel. However, that didn't seem to calm his suddenly panicked brother.

Frowning, Scott dropped another fifty feet, but still John was not satisfied. He was also called for Virgil to speed up, even though _he_ had been the one to warn him to take it easy in the storm. Something was wrong, _very_ wrong.

"What's going one, John?" Gordon asked, seeming to read his eldest brother's mind.

"The fisherman just told me that there is someone _hanging_ out of the cargo bay doors."

"What?" Virgil asked, sounding almost as panicked as their brother.

Scott paled and lowered another twenty feet, hovering just above the mast. If he went any lower he could put the vessel at risk, and his stowaway. He had a bad feeling he knew who it was, but still needed confirmation.

"Fishing vessel, this is Thunderbird One. Can you still see the person? Are they still hanging out of the cargo bay?"

"Yes sir, we can see him," one of the fisherman answered. "He looks like a skinny kid, but can't see much more than his legs– wait, his slipped down and is hanging by his hands. Yep, it's a kid alright."

Scott sucked in his breath, not knowing whether to scream in anger or fear. Of all the stupid stunts– What was Alan doing in the cargo bay of Thunderbird One! However, he would have to kill him later –right now they had to save him.

"Switching Thunderbird One to auto pilot," he informed whoever was listening. "I'm heading down to the–"

But before he could even unlatch his harness, a cry from John told him it was too late. A few agonizing seconds passed before the fisherman let them know that 'the kid' was okay.

"He seems banged up a bit, but he didn't fall that hard. He landed on our nets, though he might smell like fish for a while, he'll be fine."

"You mean he was caught by your catch?" Gordon cut it, grinning as only he could in a situation like this.

Scott rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting. Alan was now on a sinking ship with five other people; not the best time to lecture –for either of them. He fired the stabilizing line, holding the vessel up long enough for Thunderbird Two to scoop up the crew and their stowaway brother. Once he released the cable, Scott followed them out of the storm and back to the mainland, where he had a few words for his passenger. However, when he got there, he discovered Gordon –of all people– had already begun the lecture … kind of.

"Young man, don't you know how dangerous it is to stow away in a Thunderbird," he said, wagging his finger at their scowling sibling. "Where are your parents?"

Virgil, despite the seriousness of the situation, was clearly trying to suppress a smile, especially when the fisherman tried to defend the wayward teen. However, 'boys will be boys' was not going to cut it this time.

"I'll take him home and let his parents know what happened," Scott informed them, noting that Alan sunk deeper into his borrowed raincoat.

"See you back at the ranch," Virgil said with a wave, heading back to Thunderbird Two.

Gordon, however, was not quite finished with his own brand of _lecture_.

"Don't they teach you anything in school?" he asked, getting even more ridiculous. "Next I suppose you will be running with scissors!"

"I think I can take it from here," Scott said quietly, motioning for Alan to follow.

Still glaring at Gordon, the teen obeyed the silent instruction and was soon strapped into one of the jump seats in Thunderbird One's cockpit. While he seemed to be relieved to be in an _actual seat_ , Alan was clearly dreading what was coming. As well he should.

This was going to be a long, _long_ flight.

* * *

So, how much trouble do you think Alan is in now? (More or less that chapter H?)

Sorry it was short again, but this is ACTUALLY my normal chapter length.

Anyway, I eagerly await your reviews/comments/challenge words.

I should note that, due to early suggestions for O, I already have an idea of what to do for the next chapter. However, I am still accepting propts.


	16. O is for Oranges

Okay, so this one is kinda a weird one, but I tried to incorporate a few different suggestions. I hope you like the results. (You may also be confused about the title, but just keep reading. It will make sense by the end.)

This chapter is dedicated to Bedlamx28, who not only gave me my most insane suggestion (at least, of the one that I took), but they also posted my 100th review for this story. (Thanks, you are awesome.)

Huge thanks to my betas, the number of which grew for this chapter. There was 1monster2, of course, as well as Monkeymuse. Additionally, four friends looked over it, including my fabulous roommate, Beebee. (You all rock!)

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 15: O is for Oranges**

Alan dropped down next to Gordon on the couch, wondering why his father had called this family meeting. It wasn't often that these sorts of things happened … in fact, it hadn't happened since they had been told about his plans for International Rescue. Whatever the reason, it had to be big – even _Grandma_ was present.

"Boys," Jeff greeted, looking around the room at the four Earth-bound brothers and the holographic one. "I want you all to know how proud I am of how you have handled yourselves over the past year. Your job is not an easy one, but time and again you have stepped up to show your worth."

As grateful was he was to hear those words, Alan got a sinking feeling that they weren't going to like where this was headed. Of course, their dad was known for giving praise where praise was due, but he didn't usually call a family meeting just to tell them 'good job.' If he was going on like this about the quality of their work, it could only mean …

"And now that you are so proficient on your own Thunderbirds, I think it is time we began cross training."

… more work.

"But Dad, how can Alan cross train? He hasn't even finished training for Thunderbird Three?"

"Shut up, Gordon."

"Alan is doing very well on Thunderbird Three," Jeff said, both scolding and soothing his two youngest sons, respectively. "However, that doesn't mean he can't start learning the other ones."

While the teen was thrilled to hear that, every one of his brothers was suddenly squirming in their seats. Suddenly, he was not as quite as happy. He glared around the room, noting how no one would look in his direction.

"I'm not _that_ bad!"

"One word, Alan," Gordon said, slinging his arm around the other teen's shoulder. " _Asteroid_."

He was never going to live that down, was he?

"The asteroid incident was a mistake," Jeff stated firmly. "One your brother has learned from and will not likely make again."

No kidding. Just the memory of that mountain of space rock looming over them … it was enough to give a guy nightmares. However, that was in the past and he was ready to move on. On the bright side, if Dad was willing to give him another chance, there was nothing his brothers could do about it.

"So how is this cross training going to go?" Scott questioned, bringing the attention back to the reason for the meeting. "I mean, Thunderbird One is not exactly made for student pilots."

"Neither is Thunderbird Four," Gordon pipped up.

"Yes, I am aware of that," Jeff nodded. "Brains and I have been discussing solutions for those two. However, both Thunderbird Two and Three are co-pilot capable, so training on those ones can start immediately."

Alan was really starting to like this plan. Not only would he be the primary pilot of Thunderbird Three – once he was certified – but he was going to learn how to fly Thunderbird Two!

"Gordon, as you have already flown co-pilot in Thunderbird Two, I think you should start training on that one first," Jeff instructed. "And Scott, since you are already proficient in Thunderbird Three, you can help Virgil with that one. I want you all to start this weekend."

"Dad, I know Thunderbird Three better than Scott," John pointed out. "Why don't I teach Virgil?"

"I – um – have another assignment for you," Jeff said, clearing his throat.

It took a second for Alan to realize what he was talking about, but the expression on his space-bound brother's face made it clear. It seemed that their father really had put the asteroid incident behind him. Excitement welled up in the teen's chest and he didn't even care about the astronaut's look of horror. They could have the Earth bound vehicles, he was going to –

"No, Dad, you can't be serious!" John blurted out. "You _can't_ be thinking of sending Alan to Thunderbird Five!"

"I've already thought about it, and he is going," Jeff stated, leaving no room for argument. "In fact, I plan for all your brothers to spend a weekend up there to learn the ropes."

"In that case, can Virgil come up here with him?"

"Why?" their father asked.

"Because, if you are going to put Alan up here for three days, one or both of us are going to need him before the weekend is over."

Gordon snickered and Scott rolled his eyes. Alan, however, was offended. He wasn't that much of a klutz; John was _way_ worse whenever he was exposed to natural gravity. Besides, it wasn't as if he even knew how to activate Thunderbird Five's thrusters. What could he possibly do to a space station?

"John," Grandma admonished lightly. "I think you are overreacting. A few days with your little brother won't kill you-"

"You sure about that?" Gordon asked, earning an elbow from Alan.

"Who knows, it may even be good for you to have some company."

"She's right," Kayo said, joining the conversation. "Besides, after last time, I'm sure Alan has learned not to push random buttons."

The teen rubbed a spot on his ribs, where his shirt hid a couple of stitches, and wondered if she was talking about the asteroid or last week's hot dog cooker. Not that it mattered, Thunderbird Five didn't have a lot of little red buttons … did it?

 ***O*R*A*N*G*E*S***

John tried to massage away his growing headache, but aspirin did nothing to ease the paranoia-induced pain. Then again, neither did the glowing globe in front of him, but his work station was the only part of the gravity ring that he could get any peace. Alan had been on his station for 27 hours and 41 minutes … which was about 27 hours and 40 minutes too long. To top it all off, his only older brother seemed to have turned against him.

"I know he can be a pain sometimes, but he's really not that bad."

" _Not that bad_?" John echoed. "Within two hours of showing up, he managed to deactivate the gravity ring."

"At least no one was hurt," Scott offered.

"The kid jettisoned my spare suit."

"I'm sure it was an accident."

"He was _trying_ to find the kitchen."

"In an _airlock_?"

"Yeah, that was before he broke my bagel maker."

Scott winced at that one. Maybe he was finally starting to see his side of things. Alan was just too young to handle life on a base as complex as Thunderbird Five. On that note, he wasn't so happy with Gordon coming up here either. In fact, the last time he had helped with a supply run …

"Where's Alan now?"

"If he knows what's good for him, he'll be in the lounge studying," John muttered, shifting the globe so he could check on a storm near Florida. "I gave him the schematics of the bagel maker and _may_ have mentioned that he would be joining my suit if it wasn't fixed by the time he went back."

"How did he break it in the first place?"

"I have no idea."

It was true. All he knew was that Alan showed up in his office, with a screwdriver in his hand, to inform him that the bagel machine wasn't working right. When he removed the access panel on the front to see what was wrong … well, he double checked to make sure he was looking at the right machine. Wires had been crossed, components moved around – it was a mess. Unfortunately – though rather fortunately for his brother – a call had come in at that moment and he was not able to kill the kid or fix it. So, his first – and hopefully only – trip to Thunderbird Five would be spent learning how to fix what you break … and maybe a little hunger would increase his motivation.

Bagels were the main source of food up on the station, mostly because they were fast and easy to eat in zero gravity. Thanks to Alan, they had been eating re-hydrated rations. Of course, he _did_ have other food, but he wasn't about to put his brother in _his_ kitchen. If the kid couldn't walk down to the spare bedroom without killing the gravity, what would happen if you added knives?

"On the bright side," Scott's hologram said lightly, "you only have him for two more days."

"That's a _bright side_?"

"At least now he knows how the gravity ring works."

John was about to nod when an alarm blared and he felt himself lifting off his feet. The little brat had done it again! Growling in frustration, he ended the call to his older brother, advising him that he may have one less sibling before the day was up.

Taking advantage of the fact the gravity ring had not reactivated – yet – John propelled himself down the corridor to see what his brother had gotten himself into _this_ time. A startled scream from up ahead motivated him to move faster.

"Alan?" He called out, getting dangerously close to the kitchen. "Alan, what-"

He stopped when he got to the door because there were really no words for what was in front of him. Alan had managed to find the kitchen … and seemed to have opened almost every cupboard. Pots and pans floated by, a spatula seemed to be doing a mid-air dance with a whisk, a couple eggs were racing some carrots, but that wasn't even the strangest thing.

Past a cloud of spilled flour, his youngest brother was wrestling with an octopus.

He was so shocked, John didn't notice the re-initiation of the gravity ring and it was only reflex that had him move his feet toward the floor. His brother, however, was not so lucky. He and his aquatic opponent dropped to the floor, pots and pans crashing down on top of them.

"Alan!" he shouted, throwing aside his cooking equipment to find the downed teen laying on his back with three of the octopus' legs stuck to his arm. "You okay?"

"Do I _look_ okay?!"

The next several minutes were spent extracting Alan's arm from his deceased enemy and checking him for injuries. Other than a couple of large of bruises on his chest – one in particular coming dangerously close to his stitches that John was sure to face the wrath of Virgil over – as well as some embarrassingly predominant spots on his arm, he seemed okay.

" _Why_ do you keep an _octopus_ in your _cupboard_?"

"That's actually the refrigerator," John replied, helping his brother to his feet. "It was a present in my last batch of supplies. No card, but I have a pretty good idea of who put it there."

Based on Alan's expression, he did too. Now, John had been saving the eight-legged beast for his next trip planet side - so he could return him to his former fish \\-loving owner. However, now that Alan had a taste of the menace, maybe he would like to do the honors.

Gordon wouldn't know what hit him.

"Hey, John?" Alan asked as the two started back for the lounge.

"Yeah?"

"Um … where do you keep the oranges?"

"Oranges?"

"Yeah, the ones Grandma sent you a few days ago. I've been looking for them since I got here, and you seemed busy, so I just thought I'd ..."

He trailed off when he noticed that John had stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn't be serious.

"You trashed my kitchen, killed my gravity, jettisoned my suit … to find _oranges_?"

"Well, when you put it _that_ way …"

"And you thought I put them in the _bagel maker_?"

"No, that's stupid," he scoffed. "I was looking for blueberries there."

John took a deep breath, telling himself how much trouble he would be in if he locked Alan in an airlock. 27 hours and 57 minutes in … an eternity to go.

* * *

So, do you think Alan will survive his first rotation on Thunderbird Five?

Let me know what you think, as well as any suggestions for what could be in the next chapter. The boys (and Kayo) once again have equal numbers of chapters, so any of them could be next. (Except John, who needs a break after this one.)


	17. P is for Pipes

Hello again. Sorry this is late but it appears that having a full time job requires a great deal amount of time.

Oh, I just wanted to make a note about the last chapter: though there are no oranges present, the chaos was all caused by Alan's hunt for them, thus we have a title. (Sorry if that was confusing.) I was going to include the fruit, or have John mention that he had already eaten them, but it would have disrupted the flow so I left it out. The reason it was not "O is for Octopus" was because I had only one vote for that - which specifically said "throw in an octopus" - and multiple votes for oranges. (I gotta write what I am given.)

This was another one where the vote was a narrow margin, but I think it turned out okay. However, there is a story behind this ...

In "G is for Gears," I made mention of past events that led the brother to fear the words "field trip" and I decided it was high time I show you why. This is my take on Alan's first school trip to be chaperoned by one of his brothers.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to CyanB and coralie14 for the challenge word and all my readers in Australia because I haven't dedicated a chapter to you yet.

A big thanks to my beta 1monster2 and all my friends who listened to my ramblings about pipes until I could come up with a viable plot.

Now, as a show I watched recently said, "You think you know a story, but you only know how it ends. To get to the heart of the story, you have to go back to the beginning ..."

* * *

 **Chapter 16: P is for Pipes**

Virgil contemplated his latest painting. Something was missing … maybe another color. Green? Blue? Artistically speaking, red was usually used when you wanted a pop of color, but this piece … maybe yellow would be better.

"Virgil?"

"Yeah, Dad?" he called back, keeping his eyes on his paint.

Definitely yellow.

"How's Two coming along?"

"All done. She's ready to fly whenever we need her."

It was a good feeling to be finished. They had been working on building the planes for almost a year now. Originally they had thought that Two would take the longest, after Five anyway, but it seemed there were population issues with One. Even so, Operation Thunderbird was running on schedule – more or less – and they should be operational in another week or so.

"Good, that's good," Jeff murmured. "I have another assignment for you."

At that, Virgil put down his brush and looked at his father. So close to the launch of International Rescue, everyone was pitching in to help. Then again, there wasn't that much left to do …

"What is it, Dad?"

"Alan has a field trip coming up, but I have a business meeting in New York that day. With John finishing up on Five and Scott busy with One, I was hoping you could go with him."

"Sure," Virgil shrugged, going back to his painting. "So long as Brains doesn't need me."

"Oh, I'm sure he could manage one day without your help. I'll leave the information packet in your room."

Virgil nodded, but kept his focus on his finishing touches. It might be fun to get off the island for a little while. Besides, ever since their family started Operation Thunderbird, he hadn't had much time to spend with his youngest brother. At barely 14, he was too young to really take part in anything. Yup, this field trip would be good for both of them.

 ***P*I*P*E*S***

Alan shared a bag of chips with some of his friends. He didn't get to see them much since Dad moved them to the island full time. They may have a private jet, but even his family couldn't make that kind of commute every day. Fortunately, his dad had arranged for him to finish the school year remotely.

"So, how's paradise?" Mark Lester asked, grabbing a handful of snacks from the bag.

"It's alright," Alan shrugged.

"I'd hate it if I was stranded with _my_ brothers," Nick Peterson grumbled. "At least _yours_ are cool. You are so lucky."

He looked toward the back of the bus where Virgil was reading a book on jet engines. He could see how having a brother who can – and actually had – put together his own aircraft would be awesome. Still, as he knew him better than the others did, Alan still saw a music geek with a thing for construction. And John _was_ an astronaut, but he was an even bigger nerd than Virgil. Scott was cool though, if you could get him out of the clouds, and Gordon was fun, once you dried him off. Come to think of it …

"I guess I am pretty lucky."

"You guess?" Mark scoffed. "Your dad is loaded, you have amazing brothers, and you live on a private island."

"Yeah … but I still have to do the dishes."

"You say that like you actually do them," Virgil said dryly, suddenly right behind him.

Alan scowled up at his brother, even as his friends started to chuckle. Amazing or not, they sure were annoying. And with four of them … suddenly he wasn't feeling very lucky.

"Don't you know not to walk around the bus when it's moving?" he snapped.

"I'm a chaperon, remember?" his brother smirked. "Different rules."

Alan's scowl deepened, but he stayed silent. While Virgil's presence seemed to serve no purpose other than to annoy him, the teen got the distinct feeling he was hovering to make sure certain secrets stayed secret. This only made his irritation grow. He may not be part of the team – yet – but he wasn't about to betray his family. However, before he was able to come up with a witty retort for his brother, the bus pulled into the factory parking lot.

While an aeronautics factory might fascinate some of his classmates, Alan had seen better in their garage. Virgil acted interested, but he had _built_ better in their garage. Pretty soon, the teen was bored and moving toward the back of the group with some of his friends.

"Doesn't you dad own a factory like this?" Nick whispered.

"No, none of his are this small," Alan answered, suppressing a yawn.

"Still, _you_ could probably give this tour," Mark commented, pausing as a sly grin crossed his freckled face. "You wanna try it?"

While he could already hear Scott's voice in his head telling him what a terrible idea that was, Alan nodded eagerly. After all, anything was better than listening to the tour guide drone on about air compressors. It wasn't even that hard to slip away, he just had to wait until right after Virgil looked back at him. That way, they would have a three to five minute head start.

"Let's go," he whispered, the second his brother's back was turned.

Alan, Nick, and Mark slipped out of the group and hurried down a deserted corridor. Soon they found themselves on a metal walkway overlooking a vast network of automated machines. True to the challenge, Alan was able to explain that these were making the base parts which would be combined into things like, jet engine components, later down the line. However, the boys soon discovered that even with one of them describing what they were seeing, it was still boring.

They headed further down the walkway and found a pile of pipes, similar to the ones used for the steam powered presses. If Virgil was there, he would be able to tell them how the two hundred year old technology was still relevant … but since the teens didn't care, the thinnest of the pipes were soon being welded like swords.

"On guard, Tracy," Nick said, brandishing his metal weapon. "You shall soon taste my steel."

"I guess you weren't listening to the tour, Peterson," Alan said, lifting his own make-shift sword. "These are made of iron."

The two started to fence, though it was a bit one sided since Nick had actually learned the sport and Alan was just going by what he had picked up watching The Three Musketeers. Still, he managed to hold his own pretty well … until he saw a figure coming toward them. He couldn't see well in the dimly lit walkway, but that glare was unmistakable.

 _Oh crap_.

"Touche!" Nick shouted, taking the other teen off guard with a jab to the shoulder.

It was painful, but not as jarring as the railing he tripped over. The next thing Alan knew, he was falling face first toward a steam press! He could hear voices calling his name, just as something caught his ankle. While the sight below was frightening, Alan thought his heart would stop when he looked back toward the railing.

"Virgil!"

His brother was halfway over himself, holding onto to the teen's ankle with a grip that felt like the vice from his workshop. But with both hands on Alan, how was he going to keep himself from falling? He could feel it, feeling himself lowering as his weight pulled his brother over the railing …

"Virgil, let go!"

"Shut up!" he growled, tightening his grip.

They both dropped another few inches. Nick and Mark both grabbed hold of Virgil, but Alan could see them struggling. It was only a matter of time before they both went into the press. He tried again to get his brother to just let him fall, but the next shout his direction included words that could not be repeated in polite company.

Two more inches and Alan was really starting to sweat. If only Scott was here. He'd be able to keep both of them from falling. Too bad Operation Thunderbird was still under construction … of course it looked like he would be under construction in a minute or two.

"Alan," Virgil grunted. "Do you trust me?"

"I don't think I have much choice," he muttered back.

"Try to swing side to side."

"Are you _crazy_?!"

If he put him off balance, they would both go down in about ten seconds. Virgil may have a grip of iron, but his friends were not as big as his brother and could only hold on so long.

"Alan," Virgil said, the strain evident in his voice. "Trust me."

Without a lot of choice – and since staying still wasn't helping anything – the teen did as he was told. Slowly at first, he rocked back and forth, helped along by Virgil swinging his arms. Seconds later, the vice-like grip released and he tumbled onto the edge of one of the lower walkways. Scrambling further onto the metal platform, Alan looked up to see his brother had almost completely gone over the railing after him.

"Virgil! Hang on!"

"To _what_?!"

It seemed to take an eternity for Alan to make his way back up to the upper walkway, but at least Mark and Nick were able the keep his brother from becoming Tracy sized sheet metal. Between the three of them, they managed to pull him back to safety and only then was the teen able to relax.

"What were you thinking leaving the group?" Virgil growled, clearly recovered enough to start the mother of all lectures. "You realize you could have been killed? How do you think Dad would react if I went home alone? You need to think before you do things, especially when they are this –"

Alan cut him off with a crushing hug. He didn't mind getting yelled at … well, maybe a little, but he take it. If he was yelling, it meant he was still alive. His brother was okay.

"I thought you were gonna die," he whispered, feeling tears welling in his eyes.

"Right back at you," Virgil whispered back, returning the hug with equal force. "Promise me you won't scare me like that again."

"I promise."

Once their heart rates were back to normal – and Virgil was done telling all three of them that they were morons while he checked the dark bruise forming on Alan's shoulder – they headed back to rejoin the group – where they were to stay under pain of dismemberment. Shockingly, no one had noticed their absence and they were just in time for refreshments.

"After we are done here, I'll take you to the machinery room," the tour guide said, an air of excitement in their tone. "That's where we keep the steam presses!"

Alan nearly choked on his soda and saw Nick go pale. Mark announced he wasn't feeling well and requested permission to return to the bus to lie down, the other two quickly following suit, while Virgil volunteered to escort them.

So much for sticking with the tour.

* * *

So, what do you think of Alan's first adventure? (I tried to make it intense enough to give Virgil nightmares. Do you think I succeeded?)

As always, I take in comments and challenge word with open arms. Hopefully, someone will inspire the second of these fateful field trips ... but will it be John or Scott who come to the plate next? (Please vote as I can't write until I know what you want to read.)


	18. Q is for Quake

Hello!

So, here is the second of Alan's fateful field trips. (And as you might guess from the title, it is not entirely his fault.)

This chapter to dedicated to "guest" and TheFABFive2015 for their challenge word, as well as CyanB and coralie14 for suggesting Scott.

A special shout out goes to my younger sister, who is a geology nerd and gave me some help with the last part. Love ya!

Big thanks to my beta, 1monster2, for taking the time to go through this one over the phone.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 17: Q is for Quake**

Scott soared through the air, feeling like he had the power of a nuclear reactor at his fingertips. Then again, that wasn't far from the truth. The engine Brains designed for One was unbelievable! It handled like a dream; just the slightest touch and he would go into a tight turn, barrel roll, or loop.

"Alright, hotshot," his father's voice came over the comm, the smile almost audible. "That's enough for now. Come back in, I have something to talk to you about."

"FAB."

Turning back for home, Scott landed in the hanger under the pool and did his post-flight checks while One was brought up to the main hanger on the track. Satisfied that everything was as it should be, he then allowed himself to wonder what it was his father wanted to discuss.

Two had been finished for well over a month, but Five was still under construction. Did he need help with that? He couldn't imagine that he would consult him on the finishing touches for Four, not that Gordon would let anyone but Brains near his – as he called it – seabird. It could also be that Three had a problem, but it was working fine when they took that equipment up to Five earlier in the week. So which was it?

"Hey, Dad," he greeted, taking a seat across from his father's desk. "That new propulsion system is a dream. You should take her up sometime."

"I might do that," Jeff said with a smile. "However, we can talk about Operation Thunderbird later. I actually have a favor to ask of you."

"Sure," Scott shrugged. "Just name it."

"As you know, there are still some things to be worked out if we want to get our rescue organization off the ground."

"An actual name might be a good place to start," Gordon quipped on his way out towards the pool. "The code name is cool and everything –"

"Yes," Jeff interrupted, not trying hard enough to hide his smirk. "We'll come up with a name later. Now, go take your swim."

The little squid gave them a wink and did as he was told. Once he was gone, Jeff turned his attention back to Scott – who wasn't quite able to suppress his own smile.

"He does have a point, Dad. We can't call it Operation Thunderbird forever."

"Don't you start too. Alan has been on me to call us the Crusaders, or the Archangels, or some such thing."

"Their not bad names."

"For people who wear capes and stop crimes."

"Does that mean we don't get capes?!"

"Pool, Gordon!" Jeff answered the voice from the stairs, before shaking his head and muttering to himself. "What am I going to do with that boy?"

"I'm sure the Melburn Aquarium will take him," Scott offered. "He'd love it. We can pass him off as a fish-boy."

While his father dismissed the offer with a single look, he soon gave him more important things to worry about. It was time to inform the GDF of their presence and negotiate for the ability to work both independently and privately. Jeff had managed to get an appointment with Colonel Casey, their new commander, but there was a problem.

"The meeting is set for the same day that Alan is scheduled to go to the Air and Space Museum with his class," Jeff said with a sigh. "There is so much at stake here, I can't reschedule."

"You want me to go with Alan?" Scott asked – though it really was more of a statement.

"I would just feel better if he didn't go alone. I know his teacher and friends will be there, but they can't watch him all the time and the son of a rich man can be a tempting target. "

"Dad, you don't have to convince me, I'll be happy to play chaperon. Besides, I haven't been able to take Alan to a museum since we were kids. Could be fun."

"Watch it, Scott," Virgil warned. "I said the same thing before I took Alan to that aeronautics factory. Remember how _that_ went?"

He turned to his younger brother, giving him a look of sympathy that was only partially to do with the terrifying events of Alan's last educational outing. It seemed Gordon had indeed gone for a swim and – based on the way Virgil was wringing out his shirt – he had not taken it alone. Still, he did have a valid point; their descriptions of what happened in the machinery room was enough to give _him_ nightmares. But that was a different situation. Scott would just set a few ground rules – namely not to leave the group – and everything would be fine.

 ***Q*U*A*K*E***

Alan slumped in his seat, only half-listening as Mark and Nick talked about the lasted Zombie Universe video game. It had dawned on him that morning how much his family treated him like he was five years old – about the time he noticed that his brother was the only chaperon not directly connected with the school.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he hadn't been on a single field trip without his father or one of his brothers. It was cool in elementary, even middle school – though that was mostly because whichever one it was had just got back from some amazing place like _the moon_. Now he was the only freshman with a consistent babysitter. How lame was _that_?

"What do you think of the third one, Alan?" Nick asked.

"It's fine," he muttered, glaring over his shoulder.

At least Scott was sitting in the back of the bus. Now only the people who knew they were related would know. It wasn't like his friends would say anything –

"So, Alan, does big brother hold your hand when you cross the street too?"

Bryce Gardner, on the other hand, was never one to let a pass a chance to make someone miserable, and hanging over Alan's seat gave him the perfect opportunity. Why he had to be in his class – _again_ – was proof that the universe had a cruel sense of humor. But before he could come up with a retort, said big brother stepped in.

"It's the Air and Space Museum; I'm a pilot. It shouldn't be hard to figure out why I wanted to come," Scott said firmly, moving toward the front of the bus. "Now, sit down and stay in your seat."

Now Bryce may be stupid sometimes, but even _he_ wasn't dumb enough to argue with a six-foot-two former Air Force officer. Even Mark turned around and sat quietly … along with every other teen in earshot. Even one of the teachers obeyed. Then again, why not? Scott could be scary.

They got to the museum without further incidents – or talking – and the group piled out of the bus. True to nature, Scott stayed in sight of Alan while keeping an eye on the entire group. The guy really needed to learn the meaning of _fun_.

"Alright," the head teacher called out. "We are going to split up into groups and meet back in the cafeteria for lunch. Please stay together."

"That goes double for you," Scott whispered in Alan's ear.

He glared back, remembering the little 'talk' they had that morning. It seemed his future with Operation Thunderbird – and _breathing_ – rested on his ability to behave himself.

" _When you go off on your own, that's when accidents can happen._ "

As if _he'd_ never done anything like that! On top of that, he had given similar talks to both Mark and Nick. The two of them were to stay with Scott – _or else_. He hadn't actually threatened them, but hadn't actually needed to. Six-foot-two and scary was enough.

Alan was assigned to his brother's group – surprise surprise – along with Mark, Nick, Bryce, and Jenny Fuller. However, once they were in the museum, it actually was pretty nice having Scott as their tour guide. Between what he had done himself and what he had learned from their more space-oriented family members, he probably could do this sort of thing full time. By the time they got to the Apollo missions exhibit, Alan was actually starting to enjoy himself … but then something felt wrong – _literally_.

"Scott," he called, as the floor began to shake.

"Earthquake!" his brother yelled. "Everyone, get to the wall!"

Alan, who had been near a display of tools used by the earliest astronauts, tried to do as he said, but the earth jerked beneath him and he hit the ground hard. He tried to get up again, but between the shaking and Scott's orders he stayed where he was.

"Alan, cover your head and STAY DOWN!"

The earthquake seemed like it would never end. He could hear glass breaking around him; something slammed into his back just as the lights went out. Then, just as quickly as it started, it was over and an eerie silence filled the broken room.

"Everyone okay?" Scott's voice echoed in the hall. "Alan?"

"Over here," he coughed.

They had been in a room with no windows, so there was no way to know how far his brother was. That is, until Scott turned on the flashlight he had in his pocket – that boy scout was always prepared. It looked like he had been able to get most of the group to the wall with only Bryce and Alan stuck in the main part of the room.

"You okay?" Scott asked, shining his light in the teen's face.

Alan tried to move, but his back felt like it had been hit by a sledge hammer – attached to a _cement truck_. A single grunt had his big brother at his side, gently brushing glass out of his hair and probing the area around his shoulder blade.

"How bad is it?"

"It looks like the drill got you pretty good," Scott asked, his voice serious. "Here, get up nice and slow."

He pressed something onto the injury, and helped Alan back to his feet, before looking over to where Mark and Nick were trying to help Bryce. Based on the way he came up swinging, he was just fine. _Figures_.

"How are we gonna get out of here?" Jenny cried.

"Easy; we're gonna walk," Scott answered, shining his light on the floor. "Just step carefully and stay together."

It took a while to make their way to the lobby, with policeman showing up to meet them halfway. The whole place was a wreck, but at least everyone was okay … more or less.

"We're almost there," his brother encouraged. "Just keep moving."

While Alan's first instinct was to tell Scott that he had hurt his back, not his eyes – and the looming entrance of the museum was pretty hard to miss – he stayed quiet. Sometimes it was nice to be treated like a five year old … and when the shaking started again he felt like one too.

"Scott!"

"Get down, everyone!"

He pulled Alan down, covering his injured back with his own body, just as the other teens made a break for the exit. Scott yelled at them to stop, but it was impossible to tell if they could even hear them. A second later, he got up and went after them, ordering Alan to stay put. Between the blood-loss and the moving ground, he didn't have much choice … until his brother went down!

"Scott!" he cried out, crawling toward him.

"Alan, stay back!"

He got back up, managing to grab hold of Nick and shove him toward the wall. Jenny and Mark were already outside, which just left Bryce clinging to the side of the welcome desk. He seemed fine, so Alan couldn't figure out why Scott was so frantic … until he looked up. Jerking with the movement of the building, a large model of the first airplane dangled from the few cables that remained intact. If that thing went –

"Scott! Get out of there!"

Even as he shouted out his warning, the last of the cables broke and the whole thing crashed down on the very spot Scott and Bryce had been seconds before. The shaking stopped just afterward, but Alan was already rushing to the wreckage as fast as he could.

"Scott! SCOTT!"

A cough from somewhere in the mess of splintered wood gave him hope, but not as much as the broken wing falling away to reveal both of them huddled under the desk. Alan nearly wept as he practically fell on his brother. Scott gave him a gentle hug, but reminded him that they still had to get out of the building.

Twenty minutes later, the two of them were in a nearby field getting treated, Alan for the gash on his back and Scott for a twisted ankle. Their dad had been called and he was coming out with Virgil in the second jet. Their middle brother had just finished his EMT training, but Alan never thought they would be his first patients. Speaking of which …

"Hey, Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you take me on one of these things, can you remember to stick with me? I mean, when you go off on your own, that's when accidents can happen."

Scott reached over to swat him upside the head, but was quickly scolded by the nurse trying to wrap his ankle. Alan laughed, leaning back against the cot the rescue teams had provided for him. He was actually enjoying being the victim, especially when it came to free cookies and apple juice. Of course, once Virgil got there, it wasn't going to be so pleasant. But with Scott's ankle messed up, maybe he could deflect his attentions for a while –

"Hey Dad," Scott said into his comm. "Just wanted to let you know I'm okay, just a sprained ankle, but Alan needed a couple of stitches. I'm not sure it he has a concussion though, so we might want to keep an eye on him."

Alan glared at the smirk on his face. He had to know Virgil was listening and his EMT license gave him free range to make your recovery last as long as Dr. Control Freak saw best. With a risk of concussion, Alan wouldn't see life outside of a bed until the weekend, _if_ he was lucky! That _jerk_! While, big brother may have won _this_ round, but they were an active bunch. If Scott got so much as a splinter back home, the teen would make sure Virgil treated him as if he had the plague!

All's fair in love and brotherhood.

* * *

What do you think? (According to Virgil in chapter G, he got off easy, but he's still gonna have nightmares for three days.)

I eagerly await your comments and challenge words so I can get started on the next part. (NOTE: Depending on the challenge word given, the next chapter may or may not be the final field trip. It all up to you and how you vote.)


	19. R is for Rail

I am freakishly tired, so I am going to make this brief.

This chapter concludes the fateful field trips (or at least all the ones that came before G is for Gears). I got a couple requests for Gordon, but already had this chapter plotted. (I hope you aren't too disappointed.)

This chapter is for the reviewers that suggested Rail, particularly the one who included the full word of Railroad, and all my readers in Canada. (The first place I ever visited outside the USA.)

Big thanks to my beta for reminding me (constantly) that I should work on my writing and for going over this chapter in the middle of the night when it was (finally) done.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 18: R is for Rail**

John floated through the large room, hooking up the last components of the holographic display that would allow him to monitor communications all over the world. As the most advanced computer of its kind, he and Brains had been working on it for almost a year. At last it was finally complete.

"You ready, John?" Brains asked, from the mini display on the wall.

"Ready on this end."

"Alright, bringing Five online … now."

The emergency lights flickered off as the room was bathed in a soft glow. The Earth was literally laid out before him, lines of communication criss-crossing the globe. With a laugh of triumph, John spun the orb to see England, then back to Australia, then Africa, China, South America-

"Slow down," his friend pleaded. "Your display is still linked to mine and you are making me dizzy."

"Sorry, Brains," John chuckled, slowly turning the globe back to Tracy Island and noticing a blip on the display. "Hey, what's that?"

A tap on the spot revealed that he was actually seeing Tracy One coming in for a landing. Aware that Brains was still running his diagnostics, he checked first before giving his dad a call. Soon the holographic form of Jeff Tracy was floating beside him and the globe.

"I take it Brains got Five up and running?"

"Sure did, and it's better than we could have ever dream of."

"Well, I look forward to seeing it this afternoon."

"Afternoon?" John echoed, eyes shifting from one hologram to the other. "I thought you weren't coming to get me until Sunday?"

"I'm afraid we've had to change our plans and I need you here tomorrow. Can you be ready to go by than?"

"Sure," he said, trying to sound cheerful.

He had been looking forward to spending a few days on the fully functional station, but when your family needed you … Besides, Brains had put more work into Five than he did. It was only fair that he get to handle its first real orbit.

"Don't worry, John, you'll have her all to yourself soon enough," Jeff said with a smile. "See you in a few hours."

"FAB."

John cut communication with Tracy One and sighed. Only a few more hours until he was back on Earth … plenty of time to check out a _few_ systems. Next thing he knew, Three was taking off and he was scrambling to his room to get his stuff together. By the time Brains and Jeff arrived on the station he was all ready to go … barely.

While John was wondering what could have called him back three days early, his dad didn't discuss it until they were back on the island. Even though he had only been gone a couple of weeks, it felt a little strange to be back on the island … with gravity. His feet felt heavy as he walked up into the lounge, so he dropped onto the couch with his brothers, exchanging muttered greetings, instead of going all the way to his father's desk.

"Space making you old there, John?" Virgil quipped.

"No, just … gravity," he sighed. "So, what was so urgent I needed to come home early?"

Though the question was directed at his father, his brothers reacted first. Scott and Virgil shared a look, while Gordon snickered and Alan glared. _Okay_ …

"Dad, what's going on?"

"It seems Alan's history class has another field trip."

"You know, I can go on my own," the kid grumbled.

"I know you can," Jeff assured him. "Please just humor me."

Okay, that explained the reason … kinda … but why _him_? If his dad was too busy – which didn't happen often – Scott usually stepped up. Even Virgil had been known to take on the role of responsible adult when the other two weren't available. So why was he brought all the way down from Five if they were all present?

"Not that I don't want to help out or anything, but where are the rest of you going?"

"Dad has an appointment in London with a potential field agent," Scott explained.

John was aware of that, having done the background checks himself, but he didn't know that Jeff had selected one. London … that would probably be Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward. From what he remember in her file, her butler would also be a good ally. However, this only explained his father's absence.

"What about you, Scott?"

"I'm set to meet Colonel Casey."

"And Virgil still hasn't recovered from last time," Gordon helpfully added.

"Shut up," the middle brother growled.

John gave him a look of sympathy. He had been aware of Virgil's issues as well, having shared a talk or two over a light night cup of cocoa. What happened in that factory really took a toll on him. He just hoped that once they were going on rescues it wouldn't have the same effect. Then again, rescues wouldn't include seeing your youngest brother danging above a steam press … _hopefully_.

"What's the trip?" John asked, trying keep his mind on the positive.

"It's a historic rail station and museum," Jeff answered, handing him an information packet.

"Hmm," he muttered, looking over the flier. "Sounds like fun."

Suddenly, Scott and Virgil stiffened. John gave them a puzzled look, glancing at his youngest brothers for clarification, but they either didn't know or didn't notice.

"You two alright?"

" _We_ are," Scott muttered, "but I think _you_ just jinxed yourself."

"How so?"

"Those are the same words we said before we took Alan on a field trip," Virgil explained. "But don't worry –"

"I'm not really."

"– we can be ready this time. I'll go get you a first aid kit."

While Virgil rushed out of the room, John shared a look with Alan. He suddenly felt sorry for the kid. It wasn't his fault bad things had happened on his last two school trips … okay, not _entirely_ his fault. Well, this time would be different. He would just have to – what in the world?

"Okay," Virgil said, dropping a giant duffle bag in the middle of the floor. "I think I covered everything."

He unzipped the bag an began to point out the various supplies he had packet. While John appreciated the thought, he wasn't sure they needed three different kinds of splints and emergency rations. When Gordon started to toss in diving equipment – much to Virgil's annoyance – his brothers were officially out of control.

"If it makes you happy, I will bring a pouch of band-aids and antibiotic ointment," he snapped, ending an argument over an air tank. "Nothing more."

They weren't happy, but it was all they were gonna get. He was taking Alan to an old train station, not scaling Everest. They were flying there, taking the tour, flying back, and _nothing_ was going to go wrong.

 ***R*A*I*L***

Alan wondering between the displays, glad this tour was self-guided. Mark was sick, so it was just him and Nick hanging out in what passed as a technology room. Most of the machines were made of wood and iron, not exactly what came to mind when he thought of high tech equipment. His babysitter, however, seemed to be having a grand time.

"Hey, Alan, do you know what this it?" John said, his face practically pressed against the glass display case.

"Do I want to?"

"It's an early telegraph machine," his brother continued, clearly not sensing his lack of enthusiasm. "This is what the stations used to communicate with each other."

"What part did you talk into?" Nick asked, looking over the tabletop contraption.

"That's telephone," John corrected. "Telegraph used Morse Code."

"Also known as the slowest and most boring form of communication on the planet," Alan interjected. "Can we see the engine house now?"

"Don't you think we should wait for the others?" his brother asked – in that annoyingly logical voice they all use when trying to be responsible.

"It's a self-guided tour," Nick pointed out. "We can see it whenever we want, so long as we have a chaperon with us."

That part hadn't actually been in the list of rules, Alan just had to stay with his partner – the buddy system was always a good thing. However, Nick still remembered the lecture Scott had given him – not that anyone would be quick to forget it – and was trying hard to avoid the wrath of another big brother. Granted, the wrath of John was about as scary as mouse on a rampage, but word _could_ always get back to Scott if they broke his ground rules.

So, with no real argument otherwise, John led the two teens into the engine house – and what a place it was! A huge circle, containing a single strip of track, rested near an area that could be best described as stalls for the trains. They were all empty now, except for one. Still, the sheer size of them was impressive. They could probably fit One in there!

"Nick, be careful over there," John called, bringing Alan's attention to a pile of rails.

Based on the lack of signage, it wasn't a display. So what were a bunch of iron bars doing out in the open? Currently, they were giving John a heart attack as Nick was walking them like a tightrope. Alan would have joined his friend, but the thought of a report getting back to Scott gave him pause. He liked breathing after all.

"Seriously, you need to get down from there."

"Why? These things are a mile long," Nick protested. "I don't think my weight will be enough to knock them over."

He reached the end and turned back with a flourish – that would have been impressive if his pants leg had not caught on the end of the rail. As his friend started to fall, Alan hurried to help him, climbing up the mound of iron bars. He knew that John must be having a fit, but he didn't care. Nick needed help!

"Hang on!" he called out, grabbing hold of the other teen before he topped to the floor.

Suddenly it dawned on Alan just how far down the floor was and how the stack was not quite as steady as he had first thought. Wooden beams placed between the rails created many holes in which one could easily get stuck. Maybe if he-

"Alan! Nick! Grab on!"

Startled that the voice was no longer below him, the teen looked up to see his brother hanging from a chain. John held out his hand toward them, a look of determination on his face that made him look a lot like a red-haired Scott. Being a Tracy, Alan allowed Nick to go first. John helped him onto the chain and, when he was halfway to the ground, he reached for Alan. The teen slipped a little when he got onto the chain, but his brother's steady hand kept him from falling.

"Nice and slow," John instructed, allowing the teen to lead.

They were doing fine for a while – until Alan's hand slipped. He dropped down a few inches, but at the same time he stopped his brother lunged for him. The result was both of them losing their grip and falling at least ten feet to the stone floor. Alan landed on his shoulder, a painful snap letting him know something was broken. He sat up slowly, noticing the bulge where his collarbone should be and kinda wishing Virgil had won the fight for splints and slings. Nick seemed fine, but looked kinda pale, eyes fixed on the ground – on the still form beside them.

"John!" Alan cried, noticing the his brother's eyes were closed. "John, wake up!"

He went to shake him, but could hear Virgil's voice in his head not to move someone who might had a back injury. Or was it Neck injury? Or head injury? What did it matter, John might have all three!

"Is he-" Nick gulped.

"No!" Alan shouted back, with a little more force than necessary.

Scratch that, exactly the amount of force necessary because he would not allow those thoughts to finish.

"John, wake up," he whispered, trying to remember how to check someone's pulse and breathing. "Please wake up."

When he put his hand to his brother's throat, Alan got his wish. A cough followed by a groan brought tears of relief, but not so much as when John tried to sit up. At least he wasn't paralyzed. But his relief was short lived when he saw the blood.

"John, your arm!"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I think I landed on something."

He turned, as if trying to find what cut him, but almost tipped over. With his own injury, Alan was stuck with only one working hand. So, he recruited Nick to help him peel back John's sleeve and apply every band-aid they brought with them to try and close the cut. Where was Virgil's suture kit when you needed it?

"I think he has a concussion," Nick announced, voicing Alan's thoughts. "What do we do?"

"First we have to get out of here," Alan stated.

Of course, standing in his current state was no picnic, but trying to lift John was on par with an Olympic event. There was no way they would be able to get him out themselves, and there was no way Alan was going to leave him behind.

"Nick, go for help?"

"No way! What happens if you pass out? Who will keep him awake?"

It was a valid point, but what else could they – The sight of a short metal bar gave him an idea. With his good hand, he picked it up and began to bang it rhythmically against one of the stacked rails. Three quick bangs, followed by three slow ones, finished with three fast ones.

"What are you doing?" Nick asked, covering his ears.

"It's Morse Code. Basically, I'm calling for help."

"Do you think it will work?"

"It will if anyone around here knows Morse Code."

As it turned out, a few of the tour guides did and the two brothers were soon being rushed to the hospital. Once there, Alan was treated for a broken collar bone and stuck in a figure eight brace. John received ten stitches and was put on bed rest for a concussion. By the time he was being admitted, their family had arrived to check them both out.

"I can't believe you _broke_ John," Gordon mumbled, as the two of them waited for their dad and Virgil to convince the doctors that they could take care of them at the island.

"I did not!" Alan snapped. "I slipped and he fell."

"You know how bad that sounds, right?"

"Shut up!"

Surprisingly he did, but that might have just been because Scott came into the lobby. The way he looked made Alan feel a wave of panic. Was John hurt more than he had thought? Had he taken a turn for the worst?

"What's wrong?" Gordon asked when Alan couldn't find his voice.

"John said … the next field trip is _mine_."

Big brothers were so evil.

* * *

What do you think? Who would you say is at fault this time?

Let me know what you think and give me lots of challenge words so I can get started on chapter S.\

Goodnight.


	20. S is for Snake

Hello everybody! I finally finished a chapter in my 24-48 our window! Yippee!

I actually planned to have this done sooner, but I've been sick the last couple days and it's hard to write when you are asleep. (If fact, I should be sleeping now, but wanted to get this posted asap.)

This chapter is dedicated to all the people who said snake (which is most of you) as well as coralie14 and TheFABFive2015 who asked for Gordon in the last chapter but didn't get him.

A big thanks to my beta, 1monster2, for staying up late with me to finish this and my roommate, Beebee, for acting as audience while I did my last read through. (You're both awesome!)

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 19: S is for Snake**

Gordon made his way through the brush, pausing – again – to wait for his little brother. Dad's new exercise mandate, which required all of them to remain in shape, had just passed and – much to his annoyance – included Alan. So, when given the option of a hike as a means of exercise, the teen had been quick to take it. Considering the other options were running with Scott or laps in the pool, Gordon couldn't figure out why. Of course, no one with any sense voluntarily went on one of Scott's marathon-like excursions, but what was so bad about 50 or 60 laps in the pool? Well, he was going to make sure his brother didn't make the same mistake twice.

"Are you sure this is the best hiking trail?" Alan panted. "I went hiking with Virgil before, and I don't remember the path being this steep."

"Well, next time ask Virgil to take you," Gordon smirked, plunging back into the brush. "Relax, I know where we're going. I've gone this way a hundred times."

Granted, he hadn't walked _this_ path in well over a year since it was so time consuming, but it couldn't have changed _that_ much. Now … which way was the cove?

"Why are you stopping?" Alan demanded. "Are we lost?"

"How could we be lost? It's our backyard!"

Yes, their backyard did include a sizable jungle and small mountain, but it was still the yardage in the back of their house. That counted, right?

"If we die out here, I'm gonna kill you," Alan huffed, but Gordon just ignored him.

Logically speaking, since their island was round, if they went straight in any direction they would have to come upon the beach sooner or later. So, all he had to do was pick a straight line. Easy … right?

"Hey, let's take the shortcut," he announced, stepping off the narrow trail.

"That's not a shortcut, that's the jungle," the younger teen corrected.

"You know, you're really starting to sound like Scott."

The observation had the right effect as Alan charged ahead, taking the lead. It was even better than Gordon could have hoped; now if they take forever to get home, he could blame it on his young trail guide. It was perfect – until his young trail guide led them straight into a hole.

"Great job, Columbus," Gordon grunted, shifting against the root jabbing into his back. "I think you found India."

"I didn't see you doing any better, Magellan," Alan shot back, pushing himself onto his hands and knees with a painful grunt.

Seeing the size of the rock his brother landed on, the aquanaut winced in sympathy. Yet, ever one to bring lightness to a situation, he couldn't help but comment …

"You're lucky you didn't fall any harder, or you might have had a heart of stone."

He was met with an icy glare, and decided to keep further observations to himself – at least for the time being. Besides, any further jokes could wait until they were out of this hole. Getting himself to his feet, Gordon studied the walls that plunged straight into the soft soil of the island. Aside from the odd root or rock, they were pretty smooth, far too smooth to be natural – hey wait a minute …

"Alan, is this our tiger trap?"

"What?" he asked, still massaging what had to be an epic bruise on his chest.

"Remember, back when Dad first bought this place? Scott and Virgil said that a tiger lived in the jungle, so we made this trap to catch it."

"Oh yeah," Alan said with a soft grin. "And when John told us that the nearest tiger was in the Australia Zoo, we tried to turn it into a big brother trap … not that _that_ worked"

"Hey, how was I supposed to know that the birds liked peanut butter and jelly as much as Scott?"

How they expected their brothers to be lured to the sandwiches, they hadn't really thought through. It sure brought a lot of birds though, mean ones at that. After he and Alan got attacked by a particularly aggressive parrot, their father banned them from exploring the jungle further and the trap had to be abandoned. It was kinda amazing that it was still here after all these years, but there was something that seemed just out of reach of his memory that kept Gordon from fully appreciating their craftsmanship.

"So … do you remember how we got out?"

"Um, I think we had a rope."

"Here it is!" Gordon announced, lifting the remains of the frayed coil from the ground. "Think it's salvageable?"

"Do you?"

He took another look at the chewed pieces, wondering briefly it it was mice or bugs that had eaten through it. Not that it mattered, the rope was a lost cause. They were going to have to find another way out of here.

"It's not too deep," Gordon commented. "Maybe I could just give you a boost."

Alan shrugged and stepped into the stirrup he made out of his hands. A second later, his kid brother was grasping the roots of the nearest tree and hauling himself free. So far so good. Suddenly one of the root gave, showering Gordon with dirt and bits of brush. Sputtering against the grit in his mouth, he froze when he saw what else had fallen in with it.

A large yellow snake coiled atop the ruined rope, its head lifted to strike!

 ***S*N*A*K*E***

Alan scrambled to keep himself from falling back into the hole, letting out a sigh of relief once he was on solid ground. So far so good. Now to get Gordon and- why was he standing like that?

"You okay?" he asked, wondering what had made his brother go rigid.

"Not sure," Gordon whispered back. "Why don't you ask him?"

Alan's eyes moved to the other side of the hole and he froze. Not that the snake could reach him, but he didn't feel like spooking it when it was so close to Gordon. He hadn't thought there were snakes on Tracy Island; but if the place had aggressive birds, why not snakes?

"Is that thing poisonous?" Alan asked, trying to keep his voice low and steady.

"I sure hope not," Gordon muttered back. "Snakes, why did it have to be snakes!"

"I never knew you had a problem with them before."

"I was quoting a movie. You need more education."

"Not sure our brothers would agree that those sentences go together."

Despite the banter, all three of them stayed perfectly still, probably wondering what the others were going to do. What Alan _wanted_ to do was yank his brother out of that hole, but couldn't risk any sudden movements. He could try hitting the thing with a rock, but that _might_ cause it to strike too. Wracking his brain, he tried to remember if yellow was one of the colors of poisonous snakes, but the only thing that came to mind was the color of cartoon cobras.

"Call John," Gordon murmured, as the snake moved slightly to the side.

"What can he do? He's in orbit!"

"He's nerdy enough to know what kind of snake this is. Just don't tell him we found one or he'll sic the might of International Rescue on us."

Nodding, Alan raised their family astronaut on his comm, trying to turn the volume down at his brother's friendly greeting. It was a good thing it was voice only, because the teen wasn't sure he could school his features at the moment – he could barely keep his voice even!

"Uh .. hey, John. Um … I was just wondering if you knew of any snakes on the island … and if they're poisonous."

"Why?" his second-oldest brother asked, his frown almost audible.

"Don't you dare tell him," Gordon hissed.

"Um .. just some idle – urgent – curiosity."

"Idle – urgent – where are you?"

"Just at home … ish. Where else would I be?"

"Home-ish," John echoed. "Are you with a snake?"

"No, _I'm_ not. But if I was …"

"The only remotely dangerous snake on the island is the brown tree snake."

Alan looked back into the hole. The thing _had_ come from a tree, but was not brown. Still, it _did_ look remotely dangerous, so …

"Can a brown tree snake be yellow?"

"Yes, and I'd get away from it if I were you."

"Easier said than done," Gordon muttered.

"How bad is it if someone got bit? Someone like, I don't know, Gordon's size?"

He caught sight of a glare coming at him from the hole, but he didn't care anymore. If this thing could hurt his brother – really hurt him – he had to know. If it was as dangerous as they feared, he was going to _have_ to call Virgil.

"The bite would hurt, but it's not lethal to adults," John informed him. "I'd still get away from it. Now w _here are you_?"

"I don't know, ask Magellan."

" _What_?"

"Never mind, I'll call you back."

He cut communication and started to look around for something – anything – he could use to get Gordon out of that hole in one piece. He saw some vines, but they were too high to reach … from the ground.

"Hang on, I got an idea."

Before his brother could say a word to stop him, he was halfway up the tree. If there was one thing he missed about their home in the states, it was the climbable trees. These ones were so smooth, it was hard to get a good grip. Still, he couldn't give up; Gordon was counting on him. Finally, he reached a branch somewhat over the hole … way, _way_ over the hole. Suddenly, this didn't seem like such a good idea … but since it was his _only_ idea, he grabbed the nearest vine.

"I'm gonna lower this down to you, let me know when you've got it."

"If you fall and die, can I have your rocket glider?"

"Only if I can have your surfboard if that snake kills you."

"Fair enough."

Now that they had told each other to be careful – as only brothers could – Alan began to lower the vine. It was a little short, so he had to lean over the branch, holding onto the tree with one hand, in order for Gordon to reach it. The second he grabbed hold, several things happened in rapid succession.

The movement made the snake strike, which caused Alan to startle. This made him lose his balance, and he went toppling toward the ground. Since Gordon still had a death grip on the vine, his fall sent his brother into the air and he managed to swing to safety, landing hard next to Alan.

"Ow ow ow ow ow," the aquanaut mumbled, grabbing his leg below the knee. "John sure wasn't kidding when he said these things hurt."

Alan would have commented, but he had to wait for the air to return to his lungs. Once it did, he instantly regretted it; no air was a lot less painful than actually breathing. He'd guess he had at least three bruised ribs, by the feel of it, but they were both alive … small miracle though it may be.

"Hey," Gordon nudged his arm with his elbow. "You think you can walk?"

"I'm not even sure I can move," he grunted.

Despite this, Alan managed to slowly – painfully – get to his feet … and quickly saw that getting Gordon to do the same was going to be impossible. He could already see the bite starting to swell and knew he needed to stop the bleeding. But could you bind a snake bite? Or would that make it worse?

"Oh man," Alan groaned.

"What?"

"We have to call Virgil."

While Gordon looked like he would rather face that snake again – and Alan felt like jumping in the hole after him – he took small comfort in the fact that he was not the one bleeding and may be able to slip by the medic's radar. Lifting his comm again, he raised his middle brother.

"Hey, where have you two been?" Virgil asked. "You get lost?"

"Kind of, but Gordon got bit by a snake!"

"And Alan fell out of a tree!"

"Shut up! At least I'm not bleeding!"

"Yeah, but you did hit that _rock_ and might have a _concussion_."

"What about a concussion?" Virgil asked, his voice a strange mix of firm and panic. "Who's bleeding?"

"Relax," John's voice cut in – somehow. "I got a fix using their comms. Sending you the coordinates now."

"Thanks, and you two better _stay put_ until I get there. Virgil out."

Alan ended the call and sighed. Virgil was coming in full medic mode … and he would probably bring Scott in full smother mode … and Gordon was in full disclosure mode – as he always was after Alan ratted him out … and even if he ran, John was in surveillance mode, so he wouldn't get far. However he looked at it, he was dead.

It was official; exercising was the most dangerous pastime _ever_.

* * *

So, what do you think of their hike?

(Have you noticed that it is usually Gordon who gets in trouble alongside Alan without actually leaving the area of their home?)

I look forward to your comments and challenge words for chapter R. :)


	21. Bonus Chapter 1

**THIS IS NOT CHAPTER T! REPEAT, THIS IS NOT CHAPTER T!  
**

I got a request for this word and it inspired something that did not quite fit into the chapters I was writing, so I decided to toss you all a bonus chapter: the very first time Alan could have used body armor.

As this is not one of the regular chapters, I couldn't go with one of the brothers, so Jeff makes his feature debut here. (It had been requested a few times before, but seemed right to do it here.)

You will also notice that this is called "Bonus Chapter 1." Yes, that does mean there will be a "Bonus Chapter 2" at some point. I can't say when, but it will happen. (This is in part because I am OCD and dislike posting a story with a number of chapters that is not divisible by five, which is why most of my stories are 20 or 25 chapters long.)

This chapter is dedicated to taylorj2000 for the challenge word and my dear (departed) grandfather who kept an old tractor by his barn. (However, I stayed away from it and opted to play in the dirt instead.)

A huge thanks to my beta, 1monster2, who agreed to look at 2 chapters for the letter T.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Bonus Chapter 1: T is for Tractor**

Alan raced out the door as fast as his six year old legs could carry him, but not quite fast enough to keep up with his big brothers who were were almost halfway down the drive before he was even off the porch. It wasn't fair! Why did they have to go so fast when they _knew_ he wanted to go to the pond too?

"Jerks!" he yelled after the three laughing boys.

He sniffed, but _wasn't_ crying. Big kids like him didn't cry. Maybe he could play with Gordon … only Grandma had taken him to his swim class. _Everyone_ was getting to swim today … everyone except Alan. It wasn't fair at all!

"Dad!" he called, back into the house and straight for his father's study. "Dad, they all went to the pond and left me!"

"Sorry about that, kiddo," his father said softly, though his eyes didn't leave the papers on his desk. "Tell you what, when I'm all done around here, I'll take you to the pond myself. How does that sound?"

"Great!" he cried happily, glad something was _finally_ going right. "How much do you have to do?"

"Well, I have to finish these reports, then your grandma wants me to take a look at that old tractor in the barn."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Oh, it's been overheating. Probably just needs to be cleaned out."

"So if we wash it, it will work? Like the way Scotty washed the car?"

His dad chuckled, setting aside his papers to pull Alan into a side hug. He usually did this when he was going to teach him something, so he stayed really still to pay attention. He loved when his dad took the time to teach him things.

"It's not the tractor, it's the engine," he explained. "Sometimes stuff gets into an engine, like dirt, and needs to be cleaned out so it can run better. It's just like when your bike got all muddy, remember?"

Alan nodded. It had worked fine, until the mud got hard. After that, he had thought he would never ride it again, but then Johnny sprayed it with the hose and got it all clean. If the tractor was like his bike … he could fix it himself!

While his dad went back to work, Alan grabbed the garden hose and headed out to the barn. The rusty old tractor sat in the corner, where it always was, and the boy wondered how he was going to find the dirt. When Scotty helped Dad fix the car, they always lifted the hood to find the engine. Did a tractor have a hood?

It took a minute, but he finally figured it out. Of course, lifting the hood took just about all his strength and he had to stand on a crate to look inside. If he knew how to whistle, he would have. The whole engine was dirty, no wonder it overheated!

Scrambling down, Alan ran around the house to turn on the water. He smiled to himself as he got back onto the crate, thinking how happy his dad would be when he didn't have to clean the tractor. Pulling the lever, he almost fell over at how strong the water was. But it was the same setting Scott used when he washed the car, so it had to be right. The only problem was, the dirt wasn't coming off! What was it the boys did …?

"Oh yeah!" Alan said to himself. "I need a sponge."

It took another minute, hunting around the barn, to find the bucket his brothers had used to wash the car a few days before. Sure enough, there were sponges, rags, and soap all waiting to be used. Perfect!

He set to work scrubbing the engine clean, but had to lean pretty far in to reach all of it. Suddenly, his elbow hit something and the heavy hood of the tractor came down on his back. It hurt a lot, but he wasn't going to cry. Big kids don't cry. He tried to push it back up, even dropping the sponge and hose, but he just couldn't lift it. The soap was starting to get in his eyes and the engine was pushing against his chest in a way that didn't feel good at all. He wasn't going to cry … he _wasn't_ … but he was! He couldn't move, he couldn't see, there was only one thing to do:

"DAD!"

 ***T*R*A*C*T*O*R***

Jeff tucked away the last of his paperwork and sighed. It was a lot of work to run a company as big as his, but it was sure satisfying to see all that they had accomplished over the last year. But, he had more important things to do – namely, take his youngest son to the pond. He hadn't been surprised that his older brothers left him behind, and he was going to have to talk to them about including the kid more often. After all, each of them had gone through what Alan was, either with a brother or an older cousin, and they should know better than to shut him out.

First things first, however, he still had to look over that tractor. His mother was planning to loan it out to a neighbor, but needed to get it running first. Apparently, a knowledge of space shuttles meant that he should be able to fix a diesel engine. Why she even _had_ a diesel engine was beyond him, but if she wanted him to try to fix it – what was that?

He paused outside the barn, listening hard. It sounded like … like someone crying? The only person he could think of was Alan, but he had no reason to cry, unless – unless he was hurt! He flung open the door to the barn, but didn't see anything in the dim light. There was water running somewhere – which was strange, but hardly alarming. The crying sound was louder, but still muffled. So where could his little boy be? Maybe in the loft?

"Alan?" Jeff called up the ladder.

"Dad?" came a reply, but not from the loft.

In fact, it came from the direction of the – oh God!

"ALAN!"

He shoved the hood up with one hand, scooping up his baby with the other. He immediately started trying to rub his eyes, but Jeff caught his hands before the grime on them could make things worse. Rushing over to the sink, he quickly washed out whatever had gotten into his boy's eyes … and on his face … hands … hair … there wasn't much on him that wasn't dirty!

"Are you alright?" he found himself asking, over and over. "Alan, are you okay?"

"I'm okay," came a voice, barely more than a whisper. "Sorry, Dad. I … I just wanted to help."

It was only than that Jeff _actually_ bothered to look at the engine. The garden hose, still running, was shooting water straight into the air intake. A soapy sponge was sitting on the spark plugs, and he didn't even want to think about the condition of the clogged fan.

Suddenly, fixing the darn thing just didn't seem worth it.

He shrugged it off, wrapping his arms around his son and murmuring that everything was going to be okay. He could always buy his mother a new tractor – honestly, he was seriously considering scraping the thing _just_ for hurting his youngest child – but he could never get another Alan.

"Jeff!" he heard his mother call, before he even realized a car had pulled up. "We're back. Did you get that tractor fixed yet?"

He froze, feeling Alan do the same. They bother looked at the dripping engine and back at each other. With a silent nod of agreement, Jeff set his son on the workbench and quietly turned off the hose, shutting the hood as gently as possible.

"We can tell her about this later," he whispered, leading his son out the back way. "Let's go see what your brothers are doing at the pond."

The little boy's eye lit up and soon the two were racing down the drive. Yup, the tractor could definitely wait … as could explaining to his mother why he had to replace it … and actually having to replace it … and hearing his mother lecture him into the next decade on his he let her antique tractor get ruined … and he shuddered to think of how she would react to Alan's bruises.

Yup, all of that could wait. Right now, he was just going to enjoy the liveliness of his baby boy. It was the most beautiful sight in the world.

* * *

Well, I hope you enjoyed that.

Let me know what you think. In the mean time, I write up the REAL chapter T ... and it's sure to be a good one. ;)


	22. T is for Tackle

Okay, so here is the REAL chapter T.

As I am still sick, I will once again be brief.

This chapter is for CyanB who sent me a PM with the most intriguing challenge word. (Especially considering who's chapter it was. ;) )

Thanks again to my beta, 1monster2, and my roommate, Beebee, for going over the chapter with me after we all should have been in bed.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 20: T is for Tackle**

Alan stared into the empty hanger, his legs dangling over the edge of the walkway. His brothers had completed another successful rescue, but Scott had had a pretty close call. In fact, if it wasn't for Virgil, Thunderbird One would have had to be flown home remotely for lack of pilot.

While he had already seen his eldest brother – and been reassured twice that he was fine – Alan wasn't quite able to get the mental image of Scott getting crushed by debris out of his mind. Of course, the fact that he hadn't _actually_ seen it and was just imagining what might have happened didn't help anything. He hoped that talking to Virgil might get his mind on something else … if he would ever get home. After an eternity – that had to have been _at least_ ten minutes – he finally heard that familiar roar as the giant green plane came in for a landing. But even docked, no one came out for almost five minutes, and even then it was just Gordon.

"Hey, Alan, what are you doing?"

"Waiting for Virgil," the teen sighed.

"Might take a while, he's running diagnostics," Gordon explained, stretching on his way past him. "Why don't you just go in and tell him … whatever it is you want to tell him."

"Maybe," Alan shrugged. "Hey, did you see what happened to Scott?"

The aquanaut paused, his face more serious than usual. Close calls never went over well, but ones involving their eldest brother were particularly terrifying. After Dad, Scott was the strongest pillar in the family. If he was gone, they would all be off balance.

"I didn't see it," he admitted after a minute. "I was in a pod trying to stabilize the main radio tower. I heard it though."

That last part was said so softly, that Alan almost didn't hear him. It looked like Gordon could also use a big brother right about now, but – as he announced a second later – he was going to go on a swim with Scott to help their brig brother relax after his ordeal. Right, help _him_ relax. Well, everyone had their own way of coping, and Alan's was currently in his ship running diagnostics.

"Hey, Virgil?" he called, stepping into the huge cockpit.

"Alan?" his brother replied, sparing him a quick glance. "What are you doing in here?"

"I need to talk to you."

"I'm a little busy right now. Can it wait?"

"Um … not really."

Something about his tone must had spoken louder than his words, because Virgil immediately turned away from his console to give him a look. That was the greatest thing about having a medic for a brother; the second he sensed anything was wrong, your heath and well-fare became his top priority. While this could be _really_ annoying sometimes, at others it was really comforting.

"What's wrong?"

"Well … how big was the debris that almost crushed Scott?"

He sighed, typing a command into this computer, before getting up to come over to Alan and place his hands on the teen's shoulders. His brown eyes were warmer than usual as he gave him a reassuring smile.

"It doesn't matter anymore. Scott's okay, we're all okay. You don't need to worry about this."

"But what if something like that happens again and you're not there?"

"Well, then you or Gordon will have to be."

"But what if we're not?"

"Look, Scott can do some pretty dumb stuff, but he wouldn't go into a situation like that without some sort of backup; Dad would kill him if he even tried. That's why there were three of us out there today, so we could watch each other's backs."

It made sense and did make Alan feel better, especially the part where Virgil refereed to a time when he would be out there alongside his brothers. When he thought of it like that, it wasn't quite so scary. Sure, Scott had been in danger, but his back-up did just what it was supposed to do. On that note-

"How did you get him out of the way in time?"

"Football."

"What?"

"I tackled him," Virgil chuckled. "I may not have played since college, but there are some things you just don't forget."

"Oh … could you teach me?"

His brother gave him a look, as if questioning his sanity. Granted, they barely had enough people around the island for a pick up game, but he _had_ just made the point that the skills learned from the game have life saving qualities. So why not?

"You want me to teach you how to tackle," Virgil said slowly. "When we live together …"

"I'm not gonna tackle _you_ ," Alan grumbled.

Okay, so he couldn't _exactly_ promise that, but he could _try_ to remember not to. Still, before his first lesson, he had to take an oath that he would never used the techniques he was about to learn on his teacher – and understood that his health _would_ be compromised if he violated that oath.

"Alight, the first thing I'm going to demonstrate is the proper way to hold your head," Virgil said, his voice professional. "Hold up your hand, palm facing me."

Alan did as he was told, and his brother lifted his own fist so that his arm was pointed up and his knuckles forward, kind of like a cobra. He jabbed forward, hitting the middle of the teen's hand in a semi-light strike.

"Did that hurt?"

"No."

He then shot his fist forward in a straight punch that almost knocked Alan off his feet, even though it just hit his palm. He was curious to know what this had to do with football … or his head for that matter. But, as he shook out his hand, Virgil kept right on talking.

"Did that hurt?"

"What do you _think_?"

"You know why?"

"Because you're a _jerk_!"

"No, it was because there was more force behind it."

He held out his arm, as if throwing another punch, and explained how the power of the blow went all the way back to his elbow, while the jab only went as far as his wrist. Very interesting … if you were boxing. But what did this have to do with _football_?

"Force goes two ways," he continued. "When I hit you with the jab, I could feel it only in my hand, but when I hit you with the punch, I could feel it all the way up."

"What's your point?"

"The point is safety. You neck has a natural curve and, when you look up, a blow to the head will hit you like a jab. When you look down, your neck straightens out and-"

"The blow goes into my back?"

"No, it just crushes the vertebra in your neck," he answered grimly. "Before you go into a tackle, always think about safety."

That seemed to be the motto through the whole lesson as Alan learn how to make contact without hurting himself, hold on without hurting himself, and take down without hurting himself. And here, he always thought American football was a dangerous sport! After an hour working with him, Virgil had to get back to his diagnostics and the teen was free to find his first tackle dummy. And look, there goes Gordon.

WHAM!

It was a clean move that landed them several feet into the lounge. Virgil would have been proud … even if Gordon wasn't.

"What was _that_?!" he growled, shoving the younger teen off him.

"Virgil was just showing me how he saved Scott," Alan answered happily.

"Terrific, now why don't you go tell him all about it while I have a word with your teacher?"

That was a great idea! He found him on the beach, warming up for a run … or maybe he was cooling off … no matter, it looked the same either way. Dropping into his ready position, he charged forward and –

WHAM!

"Alan!" Scott protested, spitting sand out of his mouth. "What are you doing?"

"Virgil showed me how he saved you," he answered with a large grin.

"Oh, he _did_ , did he? Well, I'd appreciate it if you saved this sort of thing for when there is _actual_ danger."

The idea that there would _be_ actual danger if he _didn't_ went unsaid. Still, Alan just laughed and hurried off to get more practice. He managed to get Gordon one more time, but after he escaped from him, there didn't seem to be anyone else around. Getting discouraged, he started down the hall but stopped before turning the corner. Someone was coming …

 ***T*A*C*K*L*E***

Kayo looked over her readouts and signed. Not the outcome she was hoping for, and it probably would have been different if he had been able to go herself. However, she was needed here and it was technically the job of the GDF to track terrorists, not hers. But when someone almost blows up her brothers –

A movement directly in front of her got her attention and she immediately reacted to the surprise attack by catching her assailant by their left shoulder with one hand, right arm with the other, and bringing her knee up – hard – into the right shoulder. The satisfaction of the pop she could almost feel was short lived when she recognized the boy crumpling to the carpet floor.

"Alan?"

"Ow," he groaned, cradling his arm without actually getting up.

Guilt warred with annoyance as she dropped to his side. What had he been _thinking_ , attacking her like that? The boys usually knew better than to come up behind her without making noise – though she was getting a lot better at detecting them. Why would he have done something like this? She would have to question – and possibly strangle – him later.

"Virgil, come in," she said into her comm.

"Yeah, Kayo?"

"I need you in the hallway near the stairs. There's been an … accident."

"On my way."

It just went to show how much pain Alan was in that he didn't protest her call. She continued to whisper reassurance – and apologies – until the medic arrived. If he had any questions about how his brother was injured, he kept them to himself as he started his diagnosis.

"Alan, can you hear me?"

"Ow."

"Can you move your fingers?"

"Ow."

"Does this hurt?"

"OOOWWW!"

"I think your shoulder is dislocated."

"I'm gonna kill you."

About that time, Scott arrived on the scene. He watched Virgil pop Alan's shoulder back into place before turning to Kayo. His eyes asked the question even before he voiced it, and she prepared herself for the fallout she knew was coming.

"What happened?"

"Alan startled me, I just … reacted."

He took a minute to process this, looking to his injured brother for confirmation. While Alan was reluctant to admit it, he was quick to take the blame off of Kayo.

"Of course it's not her fault," Scott said firmly. "It's Virgil's."

"What did I do?" the medic protested, but kept his focus on binding Alan's arm to his chest.

"You were the one stupid enough to teach him a football tackle."

"You didn't find it so stupid when it got you out from under that wall."

Scott glared down at his middle brother – obviously trying to come up with a good argument, but seeming to find none. It was true, the same maneuver had been used on Scott; Kayo had just finished reading the report on the incident. But, however helpful in the field, the hallway was not the best place to practice.

"If you are going to blame someone, blame Alan," Virgil grumbled, finishing his work.

"Me? I'm the one who got hurt!"

"You tackled _Kayo_ , you deserve it," he shot back, packing up his supplies. "What were you even thinking?"

"I could ask you the same question," Gordon snapped, joining them from the stairs. "How could you teach Alan something like that?"

"He's right," Scott said grimly. "A move like this – it could have been a lot worse."

It was true; Kayo could have used any number of techniques that could have done anything, from crippling to killing him. Not that she would ever willingly and knowingly take a life; it wasn't her way and it certainly wasn't the Tracy way. Still, Alan should have known better … and Virgil seemed to agree.

"I never thought he would try it on Kayo," he said in a calm yet cool tone. "I would have thought that would be common sense, right along with not tackling Grandma or Dad."

"This is _Alan_ we are talking about," Gordon pointed out, easily dodging the fist aimed for his leg.

"Speaking of which, you're going to want to put some ice on that," Virgil advised the injured teen. "Or you could use a cold compress, gel pack – really anything cold should help."

"Keep it cold?" the aquanaut grinned, looking over his shoulder. "I think I know something that could help."

Years of experience had taught Kayo to never get between irritated brothers and the pool. So, when Alan pleaded for her skills as a bodyguard, she polity bowed out.

"I'm afraid my security services are reserved for external problems. For internal, you'll have to see Scott."

"Just be careful with that arm," the older brother instructed, moving aside as the two ran past.

It seemed he too had been on the wrong end of one of Alan's tackles, but it also appeared that he still held Virgil to some level of accountability. Thus, both medic and patient were soon doused. Of course, Gordon had gone in with them – mad as he was, he wouldn't abandon his little brother in the pool with one one functional arm, even with Virgil for company – and soon the three had managed to pull a protesting Scott into the water as well.

It was in this way that the four – fully clothed – brothers were found by their, very confused, father less than a minute later. Kayo moved away from her perch on the balcony, sending a discrete message to John to record their explanation so she could watch it later. For the time being, however, it was an internal matter.

And internal matters were not in her job description.

* * *

So, what do you think?

We are already on U ... wow.

I look forward to your comments and challenge words.


	23. U is for Umbrella

This one is a bit shorter, but real life has been out to get me. (Seriously, I had to go to both the doctor AND the courthouse today - sprained knees suck _almost_ as much as stalking orders.)

Anyway, this chapter is for Bedlamx28, coralie14, and taylorj2000 for giving me a - deceptively difficult - challenge word.

A big thank you to my beta, 1monster2, and all my friends who helped me figure out how to create a viable way that Alan could hurt himself with an umbrella.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 21: U is for Umbrella**

John floated into his primary control room, curious to see if the storm in the Baltic had grown. Fortunately, it had diminished, which was good news for the fishing communities. With that done, he slowly spun the globe, keeping an eye out for any other problems. It didn't take him long to find one. A tropical storm was gaining strength in the South Pacific … and heading straight for Tracy Island.

"International Rescue, this is Thunderbird Five," he said into his comm. "You have a situation."

"Don't you mean _we_?" Virgil questioned.

"Not this time. A tropical storm is headed your way, better batten down the hatches."

"FAB, John," his father said. "Thanks for the warning."

"Anytime, Thunderbird Five out."

He ended the transmission and went back to work. A landslide in California looked problematic, but local crews seemed to have everything under control. Still, he would keep an ear out in case something changed for the worst. The new bridge in China was coming along nicely, no signs of danger there. It seemed that the whole world was peaceful – until he got another call from home.

"What is it, Alan?"

"Um … I was just wondering … how soon before this storm gets bad?"

While his first instinct was to ask what his brother had done now, that could wait the few seconds it took to check on the progress of the storm – make that typhoon. John really hoped that his family had all made it indoors.

"It got bad about three minutes ago … _why_?"

"I _may_ have left some of Gordon's scuba gear out on the dock."

"So?"

"So … uh … he thinks it's still in Four's hanger."

John just shook his head, not envying his brother's place when their resident aquanaut realized that some of his equipment is missing. However, based on Alan's tone, Gordon might not get the chance to catch up with him.

"You _cannot_ make it to the dock and back, not in this."

"It's not _that_ far."

"It's a _typhoon_ , Alan!"

"So is _Gordon_!"

It took a bit to figure out how to respond to that. Gordon had a temper, to be sure, but that was more of Tracy trait than anything else. They each had their things that they didn't want touched – Virgil's piano, Scott's model planes, his own telescope – but they would never actually hurt … well, they wouldn't _kill_ the brother who violated that. But there was something else the kid was not taking into account.

"Alan, you _do_ know that scuba gear is _waterproof_ , right?"

"What does _that_ matter if it falls into the cove?!"

"Well … it wouldn't be damaged … by _the water_."

"But _I_ would be damaged by _the Gordon_! He'd feed me to his aquarium!"

"He keeps _goldfish_ , not piranha."

"He also has his own _squid_! I wouldn't survive our next trip to Brisbane!"

"You might not survive the trip to the _dock_!"

"I might."

"No, Alan."

"But-"

"No!"

With a huff, his little brother cut communication and John went back to work. Still, he had a nagging feeling that the typhoon was going to cause more trouble than they had originally thought. After a few minutes, the feeling became too strong and John found himself opening communications to his base for a third time.

"Virgil, you might want to get your gear ready."

"Why?"

"Because our brother is an idiot."

 ***U*M*B*R*E*L*L*E*A***

Alan held tight to his borrowed umbrella, using it as a shield against the wind and rain. This was hard to do on a sandy path that didn't seem to provide any traction to his sneakers. The familiar path seemed almost alien in storm and he hoped he was heading the right way.

"Gah!" he grunted, as a sudden burst jerked him to the side.

The umbrella was almost torn from his hands and it took all his strength just to stay upright. Once steady – ish – he carefully felt his way down the path. Just one foot in front of the –

"Whoa!"

Alan slid down the path, his shirt catching on the roots, rocks and sticks scratching against any exposed skin. A gust caught the umbrella – still in his hand – and his downward plunge became a sideways spiral. The rain hit him from every side, mixing with the mud and foliage. When at last he stopped, he wasn't sure which way was up. The umbrella was gone – not that it was much of a surprise – and it seemed that he lost a shoe. On the bright side, he finally recognized where he was.

Forcing himself to his feet, Alan seriously considered going back to the house, but two things held him back. The first was that Gordon's gear was still out here – and if it was damaged, there was nothing this storm could do to him that was worse than the wrath of his brother. The second was there was no way he could go back the way he came. On the bright side, it wasn't far to the dock.

Shivering, Alan squinted into the rain. The cove should be just around the next – bingo! The next problem was getting out on the dock. He could see the air tank from where he was clinging to a tree – thank goodness Gordon paints everything he owns yellow – but reaching it would be an Olympic feat. He didn't have to call John back to know that the wind was strong enough to blow him all the way to Guam. Maybe it he stayed really low to the ground …

Oh crap!

The next thing Alan knew he was hitting something very hard and going face first into the cove. Strangely, the only thing he could think was the comfort that he was already soaked. Maybe he was slipping into hypothermia. If only Virgil was here, he could know for sure –

"Alan!"

When did he get out of the water? And when did Gordon get here? Oh-no, he was dead!

"Alan can you hear me?"

"V-Virgil?" he shivered, clinging to the medic. "Don't let him get me!"

"Who?"

"Go-Gordon."

"Relax," the aquanaut grumbled, helping him to his feet – as well as he could, anyway. "I'm not gonna kill you … yet."

Not quite convinced, Alan decided to stick with Virgil for the time being. After all, his medical training might come in handy – like right now. Moving was bad, very bad.

"Alan?" Virgil called over the wind.

"Hurts."

That was all he could say around the pain in his side, but it seemed to be enough for his brothers to start helping him down the dock – wait, _down_ the dock? Who would bring a boat out in _this_?

"Watch your head," Gordon instructed, leading him to a large yellow door.

Yellow … Four? Oh, this was just great! International Rescue had been called out to save him from their yard! He was never going to live this down. _Ever_.

"He may have broken a rib," Virgil commented, painfully probing his side. "Can we put him in a dry tube?"

"I was going to recommend the same thing," Gordon answered, bringing his diving gear aboard. "Hey, any chance we could leave him in there?"

Alan shot him a glare, but – as their medic was manhandling him onto of of the tube beds – he didn't get much chance to answer. The trip back was surprisingly comfortable and he made a metal note to compliment Brains on his design. However, all too soon they were back in the hanger and his two brothers were escorting him to the infirmary.

"Two ribs crack, one broken, and I don't even want to try counting the number of lacerations you got," Virgil summarized, getting out more bandages. "What were you _thinking_?"

"That Gordon was gonna kill me if I lost his gear," he muttered, hissing as the medic cleaned a cut on his cheek."

"So you thought you would let the storm save him the trouble? You really are an idiot."

While his words were scolding, his tone said much more. Alan had really scared him; Gordon too, though the aquanaut presently was too angry to admit it. Luckily, nothing had been damaged – aside from Alan – and everything was going to be okay.

"Hey Virgil," Scott called from the supply room. "Have you seen my umbrella?"

 _Oh crap_.

* * *

So, what do you think is scarier: a typhoon, Gordon, or Scott?

I look forward to your feedback and the challenge words to come for chapter V.


	24. V is for Vault

Sorry for the delay. (As I mentioned in a previous post, I have been dealing with a knee injury that makes it inconvenient to sit at the computer for long periods of time.)

I also wanted to take a moment to address some concerns I have been getting in reviews and PMs:

While I try my best to get accurate information to keep my chapters as realistic as possible (which also causes delays in posting, FYI) my primary means for information is Google, and that is not always complete. (eg Google won't tell me that a typhoon is called a cyclone in the southern hemisphere or the construction of a tractor engine.) Nevertheless, I also strive to be as accurate as possible.

For example, when I included ages for the boys, I did an extensive search to find out how old Alan is in the current show ... and got three answers: 19, 16, and 14. (Which is understandable as there are three universes: TOS, the movie, and TAG.) I already knew that he was 19 in TOS, so I knew it had to be one of the others. Since there are episodes where he studies game theory and learns how to drive, I picked 16. (I just don't see a 14 year old doing those things and the movie makes a point of stressing how young he is.)

Furthermore, if you were to read my stories that take place in TOS, you will see that Thunderbird Five is in a low orbit (about 230 miles above the Earth) and not a high orbit (22,000 miles above the Earth). At the time I wrote those stories, nothing had been published (that I could find via the web) as to how high it was, so I looked at the height of other (actual) satellites and based it on that. While TAG has finally said the actual height of the station, I will not be changing it in my other stories as it was already established when that episode aired.

Sorry for the rant, but the comments were starting to pile up and I just wanted you all to know that I wasn't ignoring them. In short, I may still get things wrong, but I will always try.

Now then, this chapter is for coralie14 and nhsweetcherry for their challenge word and my beta, 1monster2, for being willing (once again) to look at two chapters for this letter. (No, that is not a typo. ;) )

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 22: V is for Vault**

Kayo had to admit, she was a little concerned about being summoned to Mr. Tracy's private office. There weren't many reasons that she received this sort of invite, and they were usually more serious than when the boys were called in – the chances of her being asked to chaperon a field trip were pretty slim … hopefully.

"Mr. Tracy?" she called, knocking lightly on the open door.

"Kayo, come on in."

She slid the door closed behind her and took a seat in front of the desk. It was covered in stacks of papers – which was nothing new – and she couldn't help noticing that Alan's school report was right near the top. But that could just be a coincidence …

"I'll get straight to the point," Mr Tracy began, his voice serious. "I want you to go to New York City … with Alan."

Or it might be exactly as she feared. But Kayo could handle this. She had trained with covert units, was a black belt in three different forms of martial arts, and was even skilled in corporate espionage. What was one little field trip?

"So, where is he going?" she questioned. "The Empire State Building? Ellis Island? Broadway?"

"Could be all of the above; it's the end of the year class trip."

Okay, so it was more than a little field trip. Still, she could handle this. One teenager wasn't … impossible to keep track of in the city. So long as Alan was her only charge, it would be fine. But if he wasn't … well, she would just have to re-strategize.

"How many do I need to keep an eye on?"

"Just Alan," he sighed, a slight bitterness in his tone. "I was going to go myself but … _something_ came up."

He handed some papers over to Kayo and she read them with growing interest. It seemed that one of the paper-pushers at Tracy Enterprises had started pushing more than paper. From the look of things, it was lucky he only lost his job; had Kayo handled it, he could have lost a limb. He still might, based on the threats he had been sending to his former boss.

"I can't risk bringing attention to Alan or his class," Mr. Tracy explained, though he hardly had to. "However, I also can't ignore the chance that he might go after my son to get to me."

"Forgive me for asking, but why let Alan go at all if he's at risk?"

"I thought about that, but there is no guarantee he _is_ at risk," he admitted. "Besides, I'm the one Eric Clancy wants. Still …"

"It would be better if he had some sort of security," Kayo finished, handing back the papers. "Consider it done."

Her mission was clear: protect Alan at all costs. Not far from her usual sort of assignment, but the stakes were just a little higher. The boys had accepted a certain amount of risk when they became members of International Rescue, and she had to accept that. However, Alan was not yet a part of the business and remained the most protected member of the family.

"Don't worry, Mr. Tracy," she promised, rising to her feet. "I'll keep him out of trouble."

"I'm not asking for the impossible," he said with half a smile. "Just bring him back."

Nodding, Kayo headed off to find her charge and set up their travel itinerary. That was going to be the first challenge of this little outing: getting Alan to accept that he was going with a security detail. Still, it wouldn't be so bad.

It might even be fun.

Of course, four days later, she wasn't so sure. Alan's class had spent the last three days running all over the city – checking out whatever exhibit or show caught their attention – and Alan followed along like a little blond lemming. The whole trip was a tactical nightmare, with headache-inducing music, and enough greasy food to bury Manhattan … twice. Luckily, this lemming had more than just his friends to influence him.

"Come on, Alan," Nick groaned. "An _art_ museum?"

"I promised my brother I'd check it out while I was here," he shrugged. "Apparently it is the first time in fifty years that these four Manet paintings have been brought together and I will be publicly flogged if I let this opportunity pass … or something like that."

Kayo didn't even try to hid her smile. Virgil had some very … persuasive arguments. In addition to the art museum, he also expected his brother to attend a symphony, two galleries, and a Broadway show. But, since he was picking up the tab, how could Alan refuse?

"Look, you guys don't have to come with me," he grumbled as they headed down the street.

"What? And leave our buddy high and dry?" Mark gasped. "Besides, as long as your rich dad is paying for it-"

Kayo cleared her throat, giving the teen a warning glance. She had briefly explained the family's desire for discretion, but perhaps she could have been a little more clear on the consequences of advertisement. If only Scott hadn't made her promise not to threaten anyone that wasn't threatening Alan …

"So, tell me again why you need a bodyguard?" Nick whispered – if you were to call the barely hushed tones a whisper.

"You heard Mark," Alan replied, matching his friend tone and volume. "It's a security thing."

"Speaking of security," Kayo cut in, glancing up and down the busy street, "why don't we go inside now?"

She didn't leave room for discussion as she ushered her charge up the marble steps and into the museum. Once there, the trio of teenagers spent half an hour trying to find hidden shapes in the impressionist paintings. They did take the time to see the Manets – Alan wasn't that reckless – but soon tired of it.

"Wanna see a ballgame?" Nick offered, as they headed for the exit.

"Can't, I have a symphony in a couple hours, but I can meet up with you after."

"Yes, maybe we can have tea with Master Tracy later," Nick said with a mock bow.

Kayo didn't hear Alan's reply, because she was distracted by a suspicious character. He was wearing a long coat and a ball-cap, pulled low over his eyes. If that wasn't enough reason for concern, he seemed to be looking at the three teenagers next to her … make that one teenager!

"Alan," she said evenly, moving toward the figure. "Run."

She started towards him, but the stranger spooked and pulled something out of his pocket. Kayo had a split second to recognize it as a brick before it was flying straight towards her head. She dodged and the object sailed over his shoulder … and straight into the kid who was still standing behind her. Taking a moment to see that he was still breathing – and assure him that a damaged shoulder didn't hurt his legs – she once more ordered him to run as she went after his assailant.

 ***V*A*U*L*T***

Alan watch Kayo chase down the guy who just hit him with … well, he wasn't sure what – it kinda felt like a cement truck. His friends were kneeling on either side of him, slightly panicked by the sight of the blood all over his shoulder. But he couldn't think about that, Kayo was chasing down some lunatic – he had to help her!

Ignoring Mark and Nick's protest, Alan ran deeper into the museum, yelling at them to call the police. It took about twenty seconds before he realized that running while injured was a really bad idea. He could almost hear Virgil going into a fit about blood loss and how much of an idiot he was … though the voice sounded almost … female.

"What part of 'run' do you not understand?" Kayo hissed, pulling him to her side. "Get _out_!"

"What about you?"

"Alan, _this_ is my _job_ ," she said, sounding a lot like Scott. "Your father sent me here to protect _you_ from _him_. Now … _get out_."

He was about to protest when the subject of their discussion came around the corner – oh crap, he had a gun! Kayo may be head of security, but Alan was a Tracy. Grabbing hold of her with his good arm, he quickly scanned the area and spotted a reinforced door. Not wasting time to think, Alan pulled her into the secure room, pulling the door shut behind them.

"There," he said proudly. "He can't get us now."

"Neither can anyone else."

"What?"

"Alan, you just locked us in the vault."

Oops.

He looked around for the first time, noticing the rows of drawers and table set up with lights and white cloth. It didn't look much like the one Dad had at the office, or the one in the bank, but he could see the similarities – like the lack of windows or the fact the only door was solid metal. Then again, with a crazy gunman out there, it was probably for the best. Of course, as there was no immediate danger, Kayo took the opportunity to check on his shoulder. By the feel of it, he had almost lost his arm – by her expression, he had a paper cut.

"So, how bad it it?"

"You won't die from it," she replied evenly, finding some of the cloth to fashion a makeshift bandage. "How do you feel?"

"Okay … I guess. So … ever broken out of a vault?"

Kayo gave him a look that told him this was situation was not in her typical line of work. Still, that didn't mean she didn't have the skills needed to break out, just that they had to get a little more creative with them.

"Hello," a voice crackled over the intercom. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, we can." Kayo replied.

"Oh, thank goodness. I'm Aaron Crisp, museum security. The police have apprehended your assailant and he is being brought in as we speak."

"Well, that's good news," Alan commented, only to be shushed by Kayo.

"Can you open the door?"

"I'm afraid that closing the door during business hour triggers a kind of panic mode and the whole vault seals itself off. Only the curator can open it."

"Where is the curator?"

"Um … Brussels."

Kayo took a calming breath and Alan got the distinct feeling he was in for a very long wait. Granted, a fast plane could get here from Europe in only a couple of hours, but those passengers didn't have to wait with his bodyguard. Yup, a _very_ long wait indeed.

"How is the airflow?"

"Well, it's … sealed off."

Suddenly, a long wait seemed like the least of their problems. He started to look around the room, trying to gauge how much air a place like this could hold. Let's see, it looked like a five foot square – approximately – with about eight foot ceilings – roughly – and there were two people breathing … he had nothing.

"Mr. Crisp, that gives us less than two hours of breathable air."

"Yes, I am aware of that …"

Aware of that? They were suffocating and he was aware of that? This day could not get any worse.

"… but don't worry. I have called International Rescue and they are on their way."

Oh crap.

"Thank you Mr. Crisp. Let us know when they arrive."

Kayo took her thumb off the intercom and directed Alan to the chair at the table. Sure, make the condemned man nice and comfortable before his execution. She seemed to sense his apprehension and placed a hand on his good shoulder.

"Relax, Alan. Everything is going to be fine."

"Easy for you to say. It would be less painful if they just let me suffocate."

"You wouldn't suffocate, you would succumb to CO2."

"Anything is better than what's coming!"

She smiled in a way that said she agreed. Great, even his bodyguard knew he was about to die! It probably also meant the end of the trip, which meant he was going to miss the big party on their last night. Okay, so his priorities might be a little off, but when a guy was about to die-

"This isn't your fault, Alan."

"But I'm the one who shut the door."

"And I'm the one that left you behind."

Suddenly, he realized his was not the only head on the chopping block.

"But you just did what you thought was best. How can Scott – oh. That was sneaky."

Her smile widened and she settled back against the rows of drawers. It was true though, Scott would be more upset about the gunman – whoever he was – to be that angry about either of their mistakes … right?

"Thunderbird One to Kayo."

Oh crap.

"Kayo here, what's your ETA?"

"Ten minutes. What happened?"

"It was the crazy guy's fault!" Alan yelled toward the hologram of his brother. "If it wasn't for him, I never would have locked us in the vault!"

"Wait … _he_ locked the vault?"

Oh crap!

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Kayo assured him. "I'm more concerned with his shoulder; Eric Clancy hit him with a brick."

"He what!" Scott exclaimed, nearly drowned out Alan's shout of "Thanks a lot!"

"Just be sure Virgil is on standby, Kayo out."

She ended the call, though it was obvious Scott didn't want to. She had to have nerves of steal to face the field commander of International Rescue like that. Then again, she answered directly to the head of International Rescue on a daily basis … and would be reporting to him about this incident … crap.

Alan would never be let out of the house again.

* * *

So, what do you think of Alan's New York adventure?

I look forward to your comments and challenge words while I work on **Bonus Chapter 2**. ;)


	25. Bonus Chapter 2

Wow ... this took a _freakishly_ long time ...

Sorry for the delay in this. I had it all planned out almost 2 weeks ago, but then I had a back injury followed by work getting really busy. (Which pretty much sucked as I was still recovering from the back injury when things got busy ... but I digress.)

Well, I'm feeling better now and _**(FINALLY)**_ got this thing done.

So, this is my second (and last) bonus chapter. (I went with the standard format as the last one didn't get a very good response.) It is dedicated to TheFABFive2015 for their encouragement over the last couple of weeks as well as their challenge to use both this word and brother.

I would also like to give a shout out to my beta, 1monster2, for helping me with my writing, writers-block, re-writes, and grumblings over the last two weeks.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Bonus Chapter 2: V is for Vase**

Virgil hurried into the lounge, relieved to see that his father was at his desk. Not that he had doubted he would be, but the time crunch was making him a little paranoid. Logically speaking, he had no reason to believe that he would turn down his petition – but who had time for logic?

"Dad, can I borrow Tracy One?"

"Why?"

"There's an antique art auction in Malibu tomorrow afternoon," he explained in a rush. "They've got lots from the House of Stuart all the way to the unification of Germany! Can I go?"

Before Jeff could say anything, Alan came running in the room. The kid skidded to a stop in front of the desk – nearly knocking Virgil over- and began to talk at a mile a minute.

"Dad, there is a _huge_ concert tomorrow night in Malibu! They have nine of the best bands from all over the _world_! Everyone who is _anyone_ will be there, so can I go? Can I?"

"Yes … and yes," Jeff answered after a moment.

"Great!" Alan exclaimed, before seeming to realize what had just happened. "Why did you say yes twice?"

"I'm sensing a catch here," Virgil added, hoping his father wasn't thinking what he was afraid he was thinking. "… Dad?"

Jeff was silent for a while – long enough for Alan to start getting antsy – and the knot in the pit of his stomach tightened. His father couldn't be considering it … couldn't even be _thinking_ it … but he was … Heaven help them, _he was_.

"You both can go … to both."

"What does that mean?" the teen asked, giving them a puzzled look. "It's one show … yeah it has nine bands, but still-"

"You can't be serious," Virgil said, ignoring his younger brother. "You send him to a place like that and we're likely to get a lawsuit."

"Hey!" Alan protested. "I've been to concerts before!"

"I think he's old enough not to set anything on fire," Jeff answered dryly.

"Fire is the least of our problems. They will be showing fragile ceramics, silks, paintings-"

"Um … are we talking about the same show here?"

While his dad explained what it was they were talking about, Virgil tried to figure out a way to get to the auction without his accident-inducing younger brother. Not that Alan was _that_ much of a klutz – usually – but he seemed to have a knack for getting into trouble whenever they left the house … and sometimes _without_ leaving the house.

"Dad, you've _got_ to be kidding?" Alan protested, pulling him from his thoughts. "Do you know how boring those places are? There's a reason they don't make art like that anymore."

"Actually, they do," Virgil said coolly. "Hence, _my studio_."

"That just proves that you're boring too."

"Well, at least _my_ form of entertainment doesn't cause migraines."

"Are you insulting my music?"

"If you want to call those _screech owl calls_ music, then yes."

Alan took a step forward – probably to try and hit him – when Jeff stood up, ordering both to stand down or risk grounding. Now, Virgil might technically be an adult and wasn't likely to be sent to his room. However, when one lives on an island and one's father controls access to the family jet, the term 'grounding' takes on a while new meaning. So they both – quietly – sat down across from the desk and waiting for a chance to plead their case. Thanks to the seniority of age, Virgil got to go first.

"Taking Alan to an art auction is a mistake because he will get bored, and when he gets bored he gets dangerous."

"Name one time!" Alan challenged.

"The astronautics factory, the train museum, and Badger Pass … _twice_."

"Badger Pass was only _once_ ; that second time wasn't _my_ fault!"

"Never mind," Jeff interrupted. "Continue, Virgil."

"Just think bull in a china shop; the cost would not be worth it."

He rested his case and watched carefully to see if his words had any impact. Unfortunately, when it came to keeping his expression neutral, Jeff Tracy had skills that rivaled _Mount Rushmore_. Handy in a boardroom, annoying everywhere else.

"Alright. Alan, what's your argument?"

"I'm not _five_! I've been around artifacts and fossils without breaking anything–"

"Except yourself," Virgil mumbled.

"– and I would be _fine_ at his stupid auction … not that I even _want_ to go … but if I _did_ , I would be fine!"

"Fair enough. Now, Alan, do you have an argument as to why Virgil should or should not go to the concert?"

"Um, how about because he is _boring?_ All my friends will be there and it would look bad."

Virgil really wanted to protest that he was not boring, but as he didn't want to go to the concert anyway, he kept his mouth shut. On the other hand, if he didn't go, it would be just Alan and his friends … at a concert … with no adults … it was almost too terrifying to imagine.

"Not sure I agree completely, but you have a valid point," Jeff said diplomatically. "Virgil, what is your counter?"

"If Alan goes alone it will be him and a bunch of teenagers – with no supervision – at a _rock concert_. I think that says it all."

"Duly noted. Here is _my_ argument."

Jeff leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk and somehow managing to keep eye contact with both brothers. This was a side of him they didn't see often, but had dominated many a board meeting – this was Jeff Tracy, CEO.

"It is both a waste of time and resources to fly to Malibu twice. So, barring medical reasons, you are only taking one trip."

Virgil had been afraid of that. Of course, he knew that Alan was still too young to be crossing the Pacific alone. However, his father's addendum had him nervous. He would have to transfer one of the International Rescue's med-kits to Tracy One – just in case.

"Alan has made a valid argument in favor of him being able to handle himself at the art auction, but I will add the incentive that he will receive no concert ticket if he fails to meet the standards he set for himself"

First good news he'd got since hearing about the auction. If behaving what the only way he could hear that ear-splinting howls he called music was to keep his hands to himself, he might just do it. Of course he was still bringing the med-kit – just in case.

"After attending the art auction, Virgil will accompany Alan to the concert and fly him home afterward. Any questions?"

 ***V*A*S*E***

Alan found himself wondering – for the tenth time – if someone could die of boredom. Virgil had said on the plane that this was a silent auction, he never said that it was worst than the loud ones. A room full of hundred-year-old antiques with hundred year old people deciding which ones they wanted to put in their London mansions and which would go better in Beverly Hills – quietly of course.

"When's this gonna be over?" he groaned as his brother drooled over the fanciest vase in the history of the known world. "We don't want to be late for the concert."

"The concert is twenty minutes away and starts in four hours. I think we have time."

Alan glared at Virgil and turned to the only thing in the whole place worth looking at: a shiny suit of armor. According to the information provided, it was made some time during the time of Charles X. The name was almost as cool as the armor. Charles X.

"Hey, Virgil, check this out."

With a sigh he looked over the sign … but then just seemed confused.

"Okay … what about it?"

"See the name? It's just like the guy in the comic book!"

"Alan …" Virgil said slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. " _That_ is referring to the tenth king of France to be named Charles – _not_ a paralyzed psychic. Now, do me a favor and go look at the documents table. Even _you_ couldn't accidentally rip paper."

He had to give him points for getting the reference, but his brother was still a killjoy. Still, he didn't want to risk losing his concert ticket, so he went over to see what there was. Let's see … 17th century etching of the Magna Carta – yawn … logbook from an 18th century cargo ship – boring … original propaganda from Natzi Germany – who would even _want_ that? … wooden box – could be interesting.

"Hmmm," Alan murmured to himself, lifting the lid.

Surprise, surprise, it was a bunch of papers. There was lists of numbers and words in some European language that John could probably identify if he cared enough to ask. Pretty anticlimactic for something that looked more like a pirate's treasure chest than a file cabinet-

"What are you doing?" Virgil hissed, practically slamming the box closed.

"Careful," the teen admonished, enjoying being the scolder for a change. "That's an antique, you know."

"It's also labeled as sight unseen," his brother replied, pointing to the sign next to the object. "As in you're _not_ supposed to _open_ it."

Oops.

"I only saw it for a second," the teen protested. "How bad could it be?"

The answer came a second later when both brothers saw one of the auction officials headed their way, and he didn't look happy. True to his big brother nature, Virgil promised to handle it as long as Alan got far away from the document table and stayed there. Worked for him, that gave him another chance to get a look at that armor.

According to the sign, it was a reproduction of medieval armor and used only for decoration in one of the king's palaces. Still, copy or not, it was really detailed on the edges and had a breastplate that Alan could almost use as a mirror. If fact, it was good enough for him to see a spot on his shirt … or was that on the armor itself. He stepped closer to figure it out-

"Excuse me!"

The voice was so loud and so close that Alan jumped … right into the armor! The whole suit fell to pieces – and each one seemed to land on _him_. When the rain of metal finally stopped, he realized that the entire room had gone silent … almost.

"Alan!"

Oh crap.

Moving ever so carefully – as the seemingly lead-based was still piled on top of him – the teen managed to sit up to see his near-frantic brother standing over him.

"Alan wha- oh no!"

Virgil was quickly slipping into full panic mode which made Alan's heart-rate skyrocket. His brother had been more calm when it looked like he had been impaled in Badger Pass and even when he was dangling head first over a steam press. What could make him panic now? Had the spear gone through his leg? Did one of the plates slice off his arm? Did he have a gushing head wound?

"You _cracked_ it!"

Or did the vase get hit by the helmet … yeah.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"Do you even realize what you did?"

"Um … _survived_?"

The look Virgil gave him made the teen think he might have spoken too soon. Okay, so the fancy vase had a little – ish – crack in it. As far as Alan was concerned, better it than his head. Granted, he would probably be feeling it tomorrow – and next Tuesday. Who knew armor was that heavy? Forget the cracked vase, it felt like he dented a rib!

"Alan," his brother said in a deadly calm tone. "That vase was made in France during the reign of Marie Antoinette and was owned by one of her ladies in waiting. It survived the revolution and two world wars … but not _you_."

While he could see his point, the only thing that came out of his mouth was:

"Boy, you'd think if it got through all those wars it would be tougher."

And that was when his fate was sealed.

"So, Scott said as he flew him home in Thunderbird One. "Can you explain to me why there is a suit of armor and treasure chest in my hold?"

"Because Virgil wouldn't trust me with the vase."

He could only see the back of his brother's seat, but it wasn't hard to imagine the guy's expression. Virgil's call of a 'potential medical emergency' had had him scrambling to reach Malibu in record time … finding out the emergency was Alan hiding in a broom closet to avoid death-by-brother had been more than a little interesting – not to mention the angry mob of art lovers who where about ten seconds away from grabbing antique torches and pitchforks. Scott practically had to smuggle him out of the city, which made going to the concert impossible. However, that punishment aside, Virgil stilled vowed that he would pay for the damaged merchandise. Based on his estimation, he was going to be in debt until he was thirty … which would probably be about the time he would be allowed to leave his room again.

Art sucked.

* * *

So, did you like it better than the last bonus chapter?

I look forward to you comments and challenge words for W. (I promised, it won't be so long next time.)


	26. W is for Water

Okay, so this is later than I wanted, but not as late as it _could_ be ... yeah, let's go with that.

I just want to let you know upfront that I wrote this while recovering from a food allergy. (I spent most of the last four days on a liquid diet. Stupid bell peppers.) So, I apologize if any of this (including my author's notes) is weird or incoherent.

This chapter is for phnxgrl, KuraiTamashii, and coralie14 for giving me a great challenge word. (I'm somewhat grateful that they out-voted "washing machine" because I was really having trouble coming up with a way Alan could hurt himself on _that_.)

A big thanks for my beta, 1monster2, for staying up late enough to give it a once over. (Let's hope I fixed all the problems.)

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 23: W is for Water**

Gordon checked over the gas levels in one of their speed boats. It was older than the others, but definitely the most reliable. Granted, he preferred the sailboat, but he would need an engine if he wanted to get back before it got too late.

"Where you going?"

He looked up from his preparations to see Alan in the boathouse doorway. He must have followed him from the house because he knew better than to take a boat out alone. Heck, Scott knew better than to take a boat out alone! His brothers may be master pilots, but they couldn't tell the bow from the stern – Alan least of all, not that it stopped his curiosity. However, his only little brother had become somewhat of a jinx in recent years, particularly with vehicles and other machinery. The last time he took him out on a boat, they both wound up in the infirmary for three days – but that was mostly because Dr. Power-Trip was paranoid about concussions … and dislocated limbs. No, best if Alan just stayed home, but how to convince him of that … maybe a little bit of trickery might be in order.

"I'm off on a great adventure," Gordon said casually, pulling his diving gear onto the boat.

"Oh yeah?" the kid asked, taking the bait as he always did. "Where?"

"John was doing scans in the area and found rocks with magnetic properties. I get to bring back a sample so Brains can run tests!"

While he kept his voice enthusiastic, he could see the excitement draining from his brother along with his interest. If you want to bore Alan – or keep him out of potentially dangerous underwater caves – tell him whatever you are doing is educational. Nothing makes the kid bolt faster than schoolwork.

"Rocks? You need all this to get rocks?"

"I do when they are underwater," Gordon replied, hopping into the boat. "John's scans showed them in some sea caves on a nearby island."

"Sea caves?" Alan's face lit up. "Can I come."

Dang it, why did he have to use the S-C words? The kid had been practically obsessed with them since he was nine – which may have been Gordon's fault for telling him that some of them held buried treasure. Now how was he going to get out of it? Honesty … ?

"Sorry, but these caves haven't been explored yet-"

"Awesome!"

"-so they might be dangerous."

"All the more reason you should bring someone with you. I mean, are you always telling us not to go diving alone?"

Dang it again! He should have known the kid would pull _that_ one. Of course, that rule was mostly made since Gordon was the only professional diver on the island and he didn't want his brothers doing something stupid underwater without someone there to tell them they were an idiot – also to help them, but that was a given. He never thought it applied to _him_. Then again, he wasn't really alone …

"John will be on the line with me the whole time," Gordon assured him.

"Still, another set of hands wouldn't hurt," Alan prodded. "Come on, I'll do whatever you tell me to do."

" _Anything_?" Gordon asked, fighting to hide his smile.

"Anything."

 ***W*A*T*E*R***

"Oh, come on!" Alan protested. "I can't even get _wet_?!"

Gordon sat on a large rock, securing his helmet and seeming not to even hear him. Typical big brother: leave him on the beach to 'watch the boat' while he got to go do all the cool stuff. He ought to push him into the cove – but since that was where the squid was going anyway, it just wouldn't be as satisfying.

"I never said you couldn't get wet," Gordon said, attaching his breather. "I just said you weren't going in the caves."

"But you said I could come!"

"Yes … to the island," he said, gesturing to the sandy beach. "Enjoy."

With that the annoying aqua-man dove into the cove. Jerk.

"Now what?" Alan muttered to himself.

He glanced briefly at the boat, remembering his brother's lame instructions, and decided that the thing could take care of itself. He was on an unexplored island and Gordon had at least two hours of air in with him. This meant only one thing: adventure.

Since Alan only had an hour or so before his brother noticed he was gone – and immediately called in the over-protective cavalry – getting lost in the jungle was out. Although it would almost be worth it … almost … no, it wouldn't. It really, _really_ wouldn't.

Without any other choice – aside from watching the boat – Alan picked a direction and started along the beach. At first there wasn't much to see. In fact, if he didn't know better, he'd think he was back on Tracy Island. The only real giveaway was the rocks; there were a lot more of them jutting up from everywhere. Might be fun to climb …

It didn't take long before the teen was towering over the cove where he left the boat – which meant that he could tell Gordon that he was keeping an eye on things. He also spotted a second cove hidden in the rocks some ways down from the beach where he started. Maybe it would have some caves too.

Alan glanced at his watch, calculating that he had at least 40 more minutes – give or take an hour – until Gordon would return to the boat. Plenty of time to check out the second cove. Who knows, he might even find some of those rocks that Brains and John were so fired up about.

Careful not to impale himself on the sharp edges, Alan made his way down toward the hidden pool. The closer he got, the more cracks and opens became visible along the waterline – anyone of which could be the entrance to a flooded cave filled with treasure. Okay, so maybe they wouldn't exactly be filled, but it could happen.

Still several feet above the water, Alan's foot slid and the teen went tumbling into the jagged rocks. He hit hard and, for a moment, stayed as still as possible. Once he remembered to breathe, he found that he could – it didn't feel good, but it was better than nothing. A sharp pain was in his shoulder and Alan realized that he had fallen between two rocks the were currently holding him in place.

"Great, he muttered, seeing the red seeping into the shoulder of his tee shirt. "This is almost as bad as when I got stuck in Thunderbird One."

Only he spoke too soon. Not a minute later, a large wave crashed among the rocks, peppering the wound with salt water. Yup, this was worse than Thunderbird One. Of course, then it was gravity holding him in place. Maybe if he could get his footing and push himself up …

"Ow! Bad plan … very bad plan," Alan grunted, sagging against the rock.

Fantastic. He was stuck until Gordon found him, which might be an hour or more. Next time he left Tracy Island, he was so staying with the boat. Another wave came, bring a fresh sting to his already aching shoulder and it was higher than the last … it was higher …

"Uh-oh."

The tide was coming in fast and he was pinning just above the water line. If his brother didn't find him soon, he was a goner. But how could he – oh yeah.

"Alan to Gordon," he said into his comm as calmly as he could.

"Something wrong?"

Okay, so he wasn't the best at the I'm-fine-voice, but another wave was coming and it was all he could do not to scream.

"Alan, what's happening?!"

Oh, maybe he did scream.

"Um, I'm stuck," he said between clenched teeth. "The tide – _ow_."

"Stuck? Stuck where?"

"The cove."

"Okay, relax. I'll be there in a minute."

Alan let out a sigh of relief, only to suck in his breath when a small spray of water his his shoulder. Forget staying with the boat, he may never leave the island again! It felt like an eternity before he heard his brother's voice crackle over the comm.

"Alan, I'm in the cove. Where are you?"

He looked around, but didn't see the familiar blond head. Suddenly he remembered that there was another cove. Heck, there might even be more than two. The water was up to his chest already, how was Gordon going to find him in time?

"Alan!"

"Other cove," he gasped, as a fresh wave of sting hit him. "In the rocks."

"Another cove?"

His brother's question was followed by some muttering that he couldn't make out except for the words 'boat' and 'idiot.' However, Alan was a little to preoccupied to be insulted. It the water got much higher, his whole mangled shoulder would be submerged – not something he was eager to experience.

"Hurry," he pleaded weakly.

"Just stay calm," Gordon instructed. "John's tracking you by satellite. I'll have your location in just a minute."

"You called _him_?! But he'll tell Scott!"

"Would you rather _drown_?"

That question was a lot harder than it should be …

"Okay, he's giving me your coordinates – how'd you get over _there_?"

"Um … climbed."

"Never mind, just … don't die until I get there."

Alan nodded, biting his lip as more seawater reached his shoulder. His brother was on his way … but it had taken almost twenty minutes for him to hike this far from the cove. How was Gordon going to reach him in time? The water was still rising, the waves were roaring around him … though he'd never hear waves roar quite like that before …

He looked up to see Thunderbird One hovering above him. He knew John had told Scott! The sleek plane circled overhead for a moment before shooting out a cable and pulling away the rock that was keeping Alan in place. However, as it was the thing keeping him in place, the teen immediately started to slide deeper into the water – where he met a pair of arms that pushed him back onto the rocks.

"Didn't I tell you not to die until I got here?" Gordon scolded, following him out of the water.

He waved to Thunderbird One, and the jet headed back toward Tracy Island. Just as well – Alan wasn't exactly eager to show the mother of all smotherers what happened to his shoulder … not that he would be able to avoid it for long-

"Ow!"

"Sorry," Gordon said, not even trying to sound sincere. "Looks like those rocks really got you good. I think you're gonna need stitches."

"Perfect," Alan groaned.

As if he didn't have enough pain without adding the headache that was Dr. Control-Freak. However, the pain was almost worth it to hear him chew out Gordon for leaving him alone on an unexplored island … _almost_.

* * *

So, what do you think?

I felt I was being a little soft on Alan the last couple chapters, so I put a little more hurt in this one. (I hope you don't mind.)

I await you feedback and challenge words (though I already have an idea of what to do for X).


	27. X is for Xylophone

Okay, I'm exhausted, so I'm going to keep this short.

This chapter is for KuraiTamashi and coralie14 for the challenge word and my favorite musical family for all their help. (Seriously, three of them gave me so much input that this chapter could not have been done without them.)

On that note, I would like to point out, for those of you not familiar with his work, that Richard Wagner (while a great composer) is very annoying when you want to sleep. During my talks with my own personal Von Traps (one of which is a former roommate) I was reminded of a time I had to go to my roommate's room because her classical music was keeping me awake. When I asked her how many pieces she was planning to listen to, so I would know how much longer I would be forced to stay awake, she informed me that she had only been listening to one ... for the past 40 minutes ... and it was only half over... thank you Wagner. (This note is actually important and will come up at some point in the story.)

Anyway, a big thanks to my beta, 1monster2, for once again staying up with me to get it ready for posting.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 24: X is for Xylophone**

Virgil walked into the lounge and flopped down on the couch, closing his eyes in hope that the world would disappear for a moment. He didn't know which was worse: racing an avalanche or dealing with the idiotic teenage thrill-seekers who caused it … twice. Who ever heard of snow surfing anyway?

"Hey, Virgil? You have a minute?"

"Yeah Scott?" he replied, keeping his eyes closed.

"I need a favor," his older brother said hesitantly. "Dad wants me to run an errand over on the mainland, but I was hoping to get some maintenance done on Thunderbird One. Since you wanted to go to the states anyway, do you think you could take care of it?"

"That depends," Virgil muttered, sitting up. "Does it have anything to do with snow or explosives?"

"No."

"Sure, why not."

Scott let out a huge sigh of relief and headed down the stairs – probably on his way to the main hanger – and Virgil stretched back out to finish his nap, slinging one arm over his eyes to better block the light. Whatever it was couldn't be too pressing or his brother would have given him more details. Besides, he _was_ planing to go to the mainland anyway for a music recital to see some of his old friends. In fact, most of the performers were people he had gone to school with – who still couldn't understand why he hadn't taken his music more seriously. Of course, after the kind of day he just had, he was starting to wonder if they had a point.

"I knew it!" Gordon laughed from somewhere nearby.

At first, Virgil thought about ignoring him. After all, there was no guarantee that whatever it was the fish-boy was laughing at had to do with him. On the other hand, it was not always safe to nap around Gordon when he was in a mischievous mood.

"You knew what?" he muttered from under his arm.

"You're practically asleep."

"And ... ?"

"How else would Scott have convinced you to take Alan to buy new shoes."

" _What_?!"

Virgil sat up so quickly he almost fell off the couch. _That's_ what Scott wanted him to do? As if he hadn't had enough dealings with teenagers today, he wanted him to bring Alan shopping? Granted, something that mundane wasn't likely to turn out badly – though the odds were slightly more against you if your name happened to be Alan Tracy – but their dad had this thing about wasting jet fuel by taking multiple trips anywhere. This only meant one thing: Alan was going with him to the recital.

Two hours of classical music with a bored teenager … he was going to _kill_ Scott.

 ***X*Y*L*O*P*H*O*N*E***

Alan tried on his fifth pair of sneakers, hoping that stalling would allow him to miss the recital. It was a little selfish, since Virgil had been looking forward to the thing for a days now, but why would anyone want to sit through two hours of _Beethoven_? That was only, what, _three_ songs? The guy didn't know how to wrap things up!

" _Today_ , Alan," his brother grumbled, checking his watch. "I swear, if you haven't picked anything in the next five minutes, I'm buying you ballet slippers."

He was bluffing – he _had_ to be bluffing – but maybe it was better to do as he said anyway. The rescue that morning had been pretty tough on him, and a grumpy Virgil was never fun company. So, he selected the best of the five and the two of them headed for the check out. Maybe this concert thing wouldn't be too bad, he might get a good nap in. Unless …

"Hey, Virgil?" he asked hesitantly, noting that his brother was in the vicinity of certain dance wear. "What sort of music will they be playing tonight? I mean, there won't be any cymbals or anything like that, will there?"

"That all depends on how traditional they want to be."

While that trademark smirk usually meant that whatever Tracy was wearing it was up to something, Alan still couldn't resist asking. After all, if he had no choice but to go to this thing, he wanted to know what he was getting into.

"Traditional?"

"Oh yeah. Tchaikovsky called for a cannon to be fired during some of his music."

"You're making that up!"

"Nope, it's in the original score of the 1812 Overture."

While that would actually be pretty cool to see, the guy's name sounded familiar and brought to mind images of ballerinas – though that might just be due to Virgil's earlier comment.

"Are they going to play it tonight?"

"Probably not, and _definitely_ not with cannons. I do know that they will be playing some Wagner."

"Are his songs shorter than Beethoven's?"

His brother's laugh was hardly reassuring.

The concert venue was at a school, which made him feel a little better. These community events weren't so bad. The worst symphonies happened in the big grand halls – there seemed to be a connection between how much you pay and how long each song was. Speaking of which …

"How many songs will they be playing tonight?"

"They aren't songs, Alan," Virgil corrected, looking over the program. "They are called pieces."

"So they won't be playing the whole thing?"

He wasn't actually meaning to sound that hopeful, but the glare he got in return told him that it was best to keep him mouth shut from now on. Of course, this was hard when he found out the thing didn't start for another 2 _hours_ – so why was Virgil in such a huge hurry to be here?

"You can go in and find a seat," his brother suggested. "I'm gonna go see some of my friends."

Oh, that's why.

While Virgil went off on way, Alan went another – and not toward the auditorium. He had two hours to find a seat, and he was not about to sit there counting ceiling tiles. After all, this was a school – there had to be something entertaining somewhere.

Seven locked doors later, Alan found himself in a music room – oh joy. There was a piano in the corner, a xylophone almost as big as the piano in the opposite corner, a dozen string and wind instruments of all shapes and sizes laying around the room, a giant tuba sitting in its own chair – his brother would think it was paradise.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Alan picked up one of the violins. It was brighter than the one Virgil's friend, Dawson, played – from what he could remember anyway – having an almost yellow color. Now how did Dawson do it? Black part under chin … fingers on strings … bow across the top …

SCREECH!

That didn't sound right.

"What do you think you are doing!"

Alan barely had time to register the voice before the instrument was torn from his hands and he was shoved into the corner – his back colliding painfully with the bars of the xylophone. The air shot out of his lungs and he fought to suck it back in. Once he was sure he could breathe again, he looked up to see a guy – almost as big as Virgil – tenderly placing the object in it's case, before turning on him with a dark glare.

"So," he said in an icy tone. "You wanna play the violin?"

"Um … not really … it was just, kinda, there."

His explanation sounded lame, even to him, and the guy wasn't having any of it. Stalking over, he pushed Alan back against the xylophone – making a clattering of chimes and likely creating a whole knew set of bruises – and held him there by the front of his shirt.

"It looks to me like you don't respect the music … maybe someone ought to teach you."

No sooner had he finished speaking that he slammed his fist into Alan's ribs, jarring both the teen and the instrument he was pressed against.

"Well, have you learned your lesson?"

For a second time that night, it seemed like there was not enough air in his lungs and he could barely cough in response. He tried to nod, but found moving at all difficult as his body fought to curl in on itself. However, the musician didn't seem to care if he answered as he had already decided what it would be.

"No?" he asked, in a mocking tone. "I guess you need lesson two."

Alan braced himself as best he could, but wasn't prepared to be dropped to the floor. He could hear the sounds of fists hitting flesh, but didn't feel any blows. Once his mind cleared a little more he realized that his attacker was now on the floor … looking up at a _very_ angry big brother.

"This ain't your business, Tracy," he growled, wiping blood from his lip.

"You have no idea," Virgil replied, his voice just as cold and hard. "Now back off, Mannes."

Rather than do as instructed, the guy – Mannes, apparently – pushed himself to his feet and towered over the brothers. Well … one of them – he was at least two inches shorter than Virgil, not that it stopped him from trying to be intimidating.

"The kid needs to learn not to touch things that ain't his."

"So do you."

"What do you mean?"

"That's my brother and if you touch him again I can promise that you will not be playing tonight … or any night for the next six to eight weeks."

Though Mannes looked like he still wanted to fight, he backed off and grabbed his violin before heading out the door. As soon as he was gone, Virgil visibly relaxed and moved to help Alan off the floor. Standing was a little painful, but no more so than breathing.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," he replied, his voice stronger than he thought it would be. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

And just when Alan was starting to think his night was getting better, he felt a swift whack to the back of his head. Seriously?

"What was _that_ for?"

"For whatever you did to Mannes' violin."

"What makes you think I did something to it?"

Virgil just gave him a look that had Alan dropping his eyes to the ground. Suddenly he was reminded of the time Gordon was – literally – running for the hills after he spilled jam on the piano back home. Scott's intervention was the only thing that kept the aquanaut from joining his friends at the bottom of the sea – _permanently_.

Hell hath no fury like a musician's scorn.

* * *

So, what do you think?

I look forward to your feedback and challenge words for Y (which will be a Scott chapter).


	28. Y is for Yo-Yo

I know this is very late. In my defense, I have been trying to wrap up my summer job and prepare for school (which starts tomorrow) simultaneously. I was so busy, it took me a week and a half to come up with a plot!

Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to coralie14 and KuraiTamashii for the challenge word with a special shout out to JessHRMikaelson for writing my 200th review.

A big thanks to my beta, 1monster2, for taking time away for her own school preparations to go over this chapter by phone.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 25: Y is for Yo-Yo**

Scott came up the stairs, wiping sweat from his forehead with the towel slung over his shoulders. Nothing started a day like a run on the beach. Now for a cool shower and a nice nap …

"Scott," his father called, walking through the lounge and motioning him to follow.

Or a meeting with Dad, that could be fun too.

"What's going on?"

"I need you to go to San Francisco for me," he said, taking a seat at his desk.

"In Thunderbird One or Tracy One?"

"Tracy One. I need you to pick up some components for Brains … and take Alan to a doctor's appointment."

While he had already opened his mouth to agree, that last part made him hesitate. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to help his family and he really _did_ enjoy spending time with Alan, but there was just _something_ about taking him places that tending to give them nightmares. However, there were a few ways he might still get out of this.

"Well, Dad-"

"Before you try it, those components are needed for all upgrades scheduled on the Thunderbirds."

Okay, that took out the first option. There was always-

"And Virgil is doing inventory in the infirmary."

Scott snapped his mouth shut, his mind racing to come up with something else. John was out, because there was no way that Dad would bring him back to Earth just to run errands. Maybe he could convince Gordon … but then again, they would like San Francisco to remain standing.

"His appointment is at 1 o'clock this afternoon," his father continued, "but you can go to the warehouse anytime, before or after."

"Sure, Dad, but … um … what's the appointment for?"

"Vision and hearing tests. It's just standard stuff, but Alan can't be cleared for solo flight until he has it."

While Scott's first instinct was to protest that Alan was way too young for this sort of thing, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Gordon was the same age when he went through it, and the rest of them were barely older than that.

"If you want to pick up the components before the appointment you'll have to leave immediately. Otherwise, just make sure you get there by 1."

Seeing no other way, Scott slumped his shoulders and went to fuel up the jet. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. A trip to the doctor's followed by a quick stop in the warehouse district. Simple … right?

Who was he kidding?

"Hey, Virgil?" he called stepping into the infirmary.

"I'm not taking Alan anywhere," the medic replied, not looking up from his clipboard.

Scott rolled his eyes at the implication. He wasn't trying to pawn off his job … this time. He just needed something he could only get from their resident medial provider.

"I need a first aid kit for the jet."

"What's wrong with the one we keep in there?"

"I'm taking Alan to the mainland."

That seemed to get Virgil's attention and ten minutes later he was carrying the largest field kit they had to the hanger. Now, there was always the chance that this would just be a routine trip, but International Rescue was not in the habit of being under-prepared. Once in the jet, Scott double checked his supplies. Based on his estimation, he was ready for fire, flood, earthquake, poison, bear attack, blizzard, meteor shower, and bee sting.

With any luck, that would be enough.

 ***Y*O*Y*O***

Alan jumped down the last few steps of the doctor's office, flinging down his yo-yo to perform the trick 'walk the dog' upon landing. Perfect. He pulled the toy back up to 'rock the baby,' That one was perfect too. For his next trick-

"Today, Alan," Scott called, standing by the door of their rental car.

He scowled, shoving the yo-yo into his pocket and sulking to his seat. Seriously, there had to be a class out there somewhere teaching older brothers how to be irritating. Of course, Scott probably taught the course – though he would be willing to bet Gordon missed a few classes.

"So, where to now?" Alan asked, as the pulled onto the street.

"Dad wants us to pick up some things for Brains."

Great, as if helping with inventory back home wasn't boring enough, now he got to spend the next hour hanging around a warehouse. _Outstanding_.

"You know, we both don't have to go in," Scott offered. "You can always wait outside and watch the car."

 _Watch the car_ , Alan thought to himself. That's the job they give to little kids in movies when they don't want them to go chasing after the bad guys or get lost in the grocery store. What did he think he was, _six_? On the other hand …

"Is there room in the warehouse to practice my tricks?"

"What is with your sudden obsession with the yo-yo?"

"Gordon bet me ten bucks that he could master more tricks in a week than me."

"I should have known," Scott muttered, shaking his head. "Between the two of you, it's a wonder we have any windows left in the house."

"I only cracked one!"

Scott didn't reply, but Alan got the distinct feeling that his brother was trying not to laugh at him. It was true though, Gordon was the one who sent his yo-yo into the pool … from the _lounge_. All _he_ did was put a little line in the kitchen window. In the grand scheme of things, he had much better control.

"So," Scott said, pulling to a stop in front of the warehouse. "You coming in?"

"Can I bring my yo-yo?"

"No."

"I'll watch the car."

With a shrug, Scott headed into the warehouse and Alan waited about three seconds before he was leaning against the hood trying to perfect 'cold fusion.' It was a lot harder than 'walk the dog' and 'around the world' … but then, that second one was what almost shattered the kitchen window. If he so much as dented the rental car, Scott would kill him. The 'cold fusion' trick was a lot more controlled … but, maybe he should take a few steps away from the vehicle, just in case.

"Hurry up, man."

Startled by the urgent whisper, Alan nearly dropped his yo-yo as he looked around to see where it came from. Wrapping up the string as he went, the teen circled the side of the building to see three teenagers standing around a car – make that breaking into one.

"Hey!" Alan called, taking a step towards the would-be thieves. "Something tells me that doesn't belong to you."

"Walk away, kid," one of them growled. "This ain't your business."

Again with the kid thing? These guys couldn't be any older than Gordon and they were calling him young?! Hi pot, it's me kettle –

"He said get lost, runt," another snapped.

Okay, so the runt thing might have been more valid as they each had at lest a few inches on him. Still, not one was as intimidating as Scott or Virgil, and Alan faced them on a daily basis. Granted, they didn't usually have a metal bar on them, but it looked too thin to cause real damage … right? Besides, no Tracy backed down from someone who needed help, even if that someone was a nameless car owner. With that thought in mind, he squared his shoulders and dared them to make him.

Less than a minute later they all changed their minds: Alan wanted to go get Scott and the three guys wanted him to stay … or at least the two guys pinning him to the wall did.

"You know what I hear?," the third and largest teen sneered, pacing in front of the others. "I heard if you hit a guy in just the right spot, you can pop their shoulder right out of it's socket."

"Really?" Alan said, trying not to sound as scared as he felt. "I heard if you let a guy go without hitting him, the police go easy on you."

The car thief just smirked at him, before slamming his fist into Alan's collarbone. The familiar snap followed by pain let him know the thing was broken. He bite back a cry, not wanting to give them the satisfaction – not that it really helped.

"I think you missed the shoulder, Lee," the guy holding his – now useless – left arm said.

"Yeah," laughed the other. "Maybe you should try again."

Alan's eyes grew wide. They couldn't be _serious_! However, one look at Lee and his grin told the teen that he really should have gone in with Scott. Seeing the fist pull back a second time, he braced himself for – his opponent to disappear … huh?

Before Alan could process what happened, the guy holding his left side up was yanked away and the person on his right jumped in to help his buddy. Who exactly he was helping his buddy with was not so important at the moment, as the young teen had to use all his strength just to keep himself upright without the support of the thugs. Once the ground stopped shifting, he looked up to see –

"Scott!"

His brother spared him a glance before turning a look – that could only be described as cold fury – onto his attackers. Suddenly, the trio didn't seem that big, especially when they were currently laying in a pile of trash.

"The police are on their way," Scott informed them, his voice harder than usual. "If I were you, I'd stay put until they get here."

The thieves groaned in reply, but didn't have much time to do much else before sirens were heard. After they gave their statements, his brother wasted no time in whisking him back to the hanger where their private jet waited … and the world's largest field med-kit.

"Dude,"Alan grunted and Scott tried to figure out one of the slings, "is that stuff for frostbite?"

"Yeah, hold still."

It took some painful trail and error – and a call to Virgil – before he was deemed ready to fly home. In true paranoid older brother fashion, Scott had him sit in the back of the cockpit where he could keep an eye on him while simultaneously keeping him out of reach of the controls. That - and the knowledge that Dr. Control-Freak was waiting for him with the rest of the Smother Army - did not help him feel at all comfortable. But not one for silence, Alan just had to ask …

"Why'd you bring stuff for frostbite? We were in _San Francisco_!"

"Well … would if you locked yourself in a freezer or something?"

"A _freezer_? Seriously?"

"You broke your collarbone practicing with your yo-yo, who knows what could have happened."

While he was tempted to point out that he broke his collarbone stopping a gang of car thieves, he did have a point. A lot could have happened, had he been alone. Luckily, his brothers would never leave him alone … wait … was that _really_ lucky?

* * *

So, what do you think?

Just two chapters left, including the epilogue. Luckily, I got a head start on Z; I came up with a plot that can be adapted to use whatever word I'm given, so I can start the opening immediately ... after I get out of class.

As always, I look forward to your feedback, suggestions, and challenge words.


	29. Z is for Zip-Line

Hello everybody! I'm not dead!

Seriously, I am SO sorry for the delay on this, but no one warned me that taking Critical Strategies at the same time as your senior project was a bad idea. (The work load was so bad that I was failing the class at mid-terms, although I managed to bring my grade up to a C by the end.)

On top of that this chapter did NOT want to be written. I knew what was going to happen, I knew what I wanted them to say, but the words would just not go on the page. (Stupid writers block.) Anyway, I FINALLY gt it written ... right before finals hit. Once I was done, I got sick. (Yesterday my temperature spiked to 102.7 F, which is about 39.28 C for all of you on that system. In any case, I wasn't far off from a trip to the hospital.) I'm now in the last stages of whatever bug I got (or at least my temperature is back to normal), so I thought I would get this up.

Also, as I couldn't put Kayo or one of the boys in this chapter - without putting it off balance - I decided to go another way.

A big thanks to my beta, 1monster2, for helping with the editing while she prepared for her own finals.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Chapter 26: Z is for Zip-Line**

Jeff sat at his desk doing paperwork and listening to the sounds of the island. Virgil was playing the piano – Chopin by the sound of it. Gordon had volunteered to help Scott make lunch, which would explain how much noise was coming from the kitchen. He may be graceful in the water, but putting him near pots and pans turned Gordon into something akin to a hurricane. At least his eldest would make sure nothing got damaged … this time.

A frustrated sigh caught his attention and Jeff looked up to see Alan slumped on the couch. His youngest son was glaring at the floor, as if the carpet had somehow offended him. More than likely the source of his annoyance was one of his brothers, but at fifteen, it really could be anything.

"What's wrong, Alan?" Jeff called, setting down his pen.

"I'm a travel jinx."

Just as he thought, it was his brothers.

"You aren't a jinx."

"Oh yeah?" he challenged, looking up with hurt in his eyes. "Then why does the suggestion of going somewhere with me make everyone panic?"

While it was true his last few outings had resulted in the need of Virgil's services for one or more of the boys, those incidents weren't his fault … well, most of them weren't his fault. Still, it wasn't fair of the boys to treat him as a leper. Jeff was going to have to call a meeting of his older brothers to explain how their behavior was affecting their brother and strongly suggest they change it. In the meantime, maybe there was something he could do.

"It doesn't make me panic," Jeff stated, rising from his seat to cross over to his youngest son. "I would be happy to go somewhere with you."

"You mean it, Dad?" Alan asked, his blue eyes lighting up with his smile.

"Sure. It's been a while since you and I got to do anything together. Now I know that I'm not as young as I used to be, but I think I still have a few adventures left in me. It might even be fun."

Alan's response was cut off by a crash in the kitchen happening in unison with a sour note on the piano. This was followed by the sound of running feet as three of his brothers came bounding into the room.

"No Dad!" Virgil shouted, coming in from one way.

"Don't do it!" Gordon added, just as Scott proclaimed the idea wasn't safe.

Alan sank back against the couch, clearly hurt by their reaction, and Jeff was even more determined to go. He didn't think the risk was as great as his son's seemed to believe, but any risk was worth it to prove to Alan he was not a 'travel jinx.' So, his response to their concern was to look at Alan and say:

"What kind of trip did you have in mind?"

"You can't be serious!" Virgil blurted out, getting a scowl from his youngest brother.

"I was thinking someplace like a museum –"

"Remember how well that went last time?" Scott warned.

"– or maybe the zoo –"

"You'd get eaten by a bear!" Gordon half-shouted.

"– what do you think, Alan?"

The question silence everyone and all eyes turned to the young teen. He was hesitant at first, but an encouraging smile from Jeff seemed to give him more confidence. Shooting a defiant glare at his older brothers, Alan gave his answer.

"Well … there's this zip-line park –"

That was as far as he got before all three of the other boys started to condemn the idea.

"Way too dangerous," Scott stated.

"Do you even realize what could happen?" Virgil questioned.

"You'd be eaten by a tree!" Gordon added.

"Sounds fine," Jeff said, brightly. "When would you like to leave? Tomorrow work okay?"

His question was met with shocked silence before Alan jumped to his feet, a joyful grin on his face, and he raced out of the room with a promise to get everything ready. His other sons were not as enthusiastic.

"Dad, I don't think you realize what you are getting into," Virgil warned.

"Son, I have traveled safely to and from _Mars_. I think I can handle a _park_."

"But last time you didn't take Alan," Scott pointed out. "That changes things."

"In what way?"

His boys hesitated, probably trying to come up with a way of phrasing their fears that wouldn't get them grounded. Finally they admitted that there was nothing wrong with Alan per se, it was just that he said …

"I'm sorry," Jeff held up his hand. "I said what?"

"The words," Virgil repeated grimly. "Never say it could, might, or will be fun before taking Alan anywhere."

"That's what invokes the curse," Gordon explained … somewhat.

This was getting ridiculous.

"Your brother is not cursed," Jeff said firmly. "Now, he and I are going on that trip tomorrow, we will have a great time, and we will both be fine. Got it?"

They just stared at him as if he had announced he had cancer. Well, he would have to show them – and Alan – that there was no curse … not that it stopped Virgil from insisting he pack them a first-aid kit.

 ***Z*I*P*L*I*N*E***

Alan stood on the platform, looking down at the ground far below him. He must be higher up than Thunderbird Three … okay, maybe One, but it was still high.

"You all set?" Jeff asked, checking the teen's harness … for the third time.

At least Scott and Virgil come by their smothering personality naturally.

"You bet," he grinned, stepping up to the edge.

The man running this part of the course secured him to the line and double checked that everything was in place. When he gave him a thumbs up, Alan went soaring through the trees. Wind whipped through his hair and he let out a whoop as if he was five-years-old again. All too soon, he had reached the next platform and was being unhooked so the line could be cleared for the next person. A minute later, his father arrived with a laugh. This had to be child's-play for someone who had trained with NASA.

"You enjoying yourself, sir?" the pretty attendant asked, unhooking Jeff's harness.

"Immensely," he replied, slinging an arm around Alan's shoulders. "You know, son, I'm really glad you talked me into getting out of the office."

"Anytime, Dad."

They stepped up to go to the next platform, going so fast the air was practically singing around them. Alan was having a blast and it looked like Jeff was enjoying himself just as much. On top of that, this was their second time going through the course and nothing bad had happened –

"Hold up, sir, there is a problem with the next line."

Thought too soon.

"What is it?" Jeff asked, peering into the trees.

"Nothing you need to be concerned about, sir."

Clearly this person had no idea he was talking to the head of International Rescue.

"Is someone trapped out there?"

"Sir, please just stay back."

Now Alan was standing at the railing, looking at the person stopped halfway between their platform and the next. It seemed that their trolley got stuck in the middle of the line. According to their attendant's radio, rescue crews were on the way with a elevator platform and the situation seemed to be perfectly under control – until Alan noticed that the line was starting to sag.

"Dad! The cable is coming loose!"

"Kid, just stay back," the attendant repeated, but even he was starting to look a little shaken.

Even if the elevator car got in place, the guy could fall before they reached him. If his brothers were here, they could get the guy down easy, but not even the Thunderbirds could deploy that quickly. In a situation like this, there was really only one thing to do. Grabbing one of the emergency ropes off the platform, the teen clipped himself to the next trolley and went flying down the line.

"ALAN!"

His father's shout came too late to stop him, as he was already a quarter of the way down the sagging line. He slammed into the trapped man, taking an elbow to the ribs for his trouble. Instead of a reassuring greeting, all the guy got was a cough and a groan.

That probably never happened to Scott.

"Hey," he grunted, as soon as he found his voice. "Don't worry, I'm here to help you."

"They sent a kid to get me down," the man grumbled. "What are you, twelve?"

That _definitely_ never happened to Scott.

Ignoring the comment, Alan looked down to see if the elevator platform was in place yet. Yup, right below them; so far so good. Now all he had to do was get the man unhooked from his harness and he could climb down the rope to safety – assuming the cable held that long.

"Do you know how to unhook yourself?"

"Are you crazy? This contraption is the only thing keeping me from falling!"

Alan thought about pointing out that the cable was failing and he would fall regardless, but a little voice in his head – that sounded strangely like Virgil – told him that making him panic more would not help the situation. Funny how his brothers were always there to help even when they weren't there …

"You won't fall, I have a rope."

"Nice, did you make it in arts and crafts?"

At this point, Alan was almost ready to just let him fall. He probably wouldn't get hurt worse than a broken leg or two, maybe an arm or rib to round it out, but International Rescue didn't back down just because the person they were saving was an arrogant jerk.

"Look, the platform can't get up this high," Alan explained as calmly as he could, leaving off the words 'in time' so as not to make the situation worse. "If we can lower ourselves down we can meet it halfway."

While his logic would have probably made John proud, this guy was not having any of it. With no other choice, as the cable was starting to visibly dip, Alan just reached over and started to unhook the man himself.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!"

As he had just explained what he was doing, Alan saw no reason to repeat himself, though something told him his brothers might have. In any case, it didn't matter because the man was free and starting the shimmy down the rope, cursing the teen all the way.

"You're welcome," Alan grumbled, unhooking his own harness.

He was about twenty feet or so above the platform when the cable finally gave way. He slammed into the unforgiving floor with an audible crack.

Not again!

Twenty minutes later he was at the first-aid station being fitted for a figure-8 brace and wondering why Virgil never used this kind. It was much less constricting and so much easier to move in … but that might be why. Speaking of his brothers …

"You still think I'm not a travel jinx," he asked his father solemnly.

"No, Alan," Jeff said with a smile. "You're a hero."

The teen puffed out his chest a little, which reminded him that being a hero included the occasional broken collarbone. Virgil was going to have a field day with this when he got home, but that didn't matter. He could deal with the smothering as long as Jeff was on his side.

No one would call him a jinx again.

* * *

Well, what do you think of Alan's latest "adventure?"

I have one more chapter in this story which should be up fairly soon ...


	30. Epilogue

Hello everybody!

Sorry this is so short, but it is only a wrap up (of sorts ... *evil grin*).

I would like to dedicate this chapter to coralie14 for being the only reviewer who has stuck with me consistently since chapter 1. (Seriously, they reviewed to 28 of the 29 chapters posted before this. They deserve the recognition.)

Thanks again to my lovely beta, 1monster2, for helping get this ready.

Enjoy ...

* * *

 **Epilogue**

Alan shook his head, leaning back against the wall. Okay, so his brothers _might_ have a point and he _did_ have his share of bumps and bruises. Still, there was something they were missing.

"If your stories proved anything it's that all of YOU need body armor AND helmets."

"Nice try," Scott smirked. "We're fine."

"Really?" the teen challenged, crossing his arms. "And who was it that got a concussion at the rail museum? Or beaten up at Badger Pass?"

"Technically, we both got beaten up in that corral," Gordon pointed out.

"Not helping," John muttered, before his hologram shifted to his youngest brother. "Just humor us and wear the body armor."

While he wanted to continue to argue that body armor was not necessary, the memory of all those broken collarbones and dislocated shoulders kept him quiet. After all, a few extra precautions wouldn't hurt … not that he really needed them.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll wear the armor."

"Great," Scott said, visibly relieved. "Brains just finished up your deployment shoot this morning. Once he puts in your new suit, it will be ready for our next call out."

"Awesome," Alan cheered, frowning when he saw the look on his middle brother's face. "Something wrong, Virgil?"

"It's just what you said, about us needing armor … I think I'm going to go double check our inventory, just in case."

"Nice going," Gordon muttered, shoving the younger teen in the shoulder, "You put him in Dr. Control-Freak mode without a patient to focus on. You know what's gonna happen now, right?"

Alan shuddered at the thought. Without someone to take Virgil's attention, he would be hovering around all of them. He was like one of those annoying bees with a medical bag. Maybe he should have kept his thoughts to himself …

"Never mind Virgil," Scott advised. "He'll snap out of it in an hour or two. So, Alan, how would you like to celebrate officially joining the team?"

"I say a swim," Gordon suggested.

For once, Alan was in full agreement and the three brothers headed down to the pool, while Brains went off to do some inventory of his own and Kayo went back to work on some security upgrades for the island – if only she could find a way to keep Grandma out of the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, Alan was perched on the side of the pool, his feet in the water, watching Gordon try to dunk Scott. While he may be part fish, big brother was no slouch and was holding his own pretty well. Alan hadn't decided which side he was going to take when Gordon literally flew into the air and landed back in the water with a huge splash. Of course, laughing only brought the attention to him and as Scott was climbing out of the pool, their own aqua-man was heading straight for the teen like a torpedo. Maybe big brother had the right – uh-oh!

* * *

To be continued in **The ABC's of Virgil Tracy**.

Please stay tuned ...


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